Beyond the Wall
by Blazing-Orchid
Summary: Timeturner fic: AU, in the department of Mysteries, the shattered timeturners have a rather different effect, but only to those who have touched time before, as Hermione discovers when she wakes to find herself in another era: 1976 to be precise.
1. Shattering Glass

**_Disclaimer: None of Harry Potter, associated characters, events and settings are mine, they belong to J.K.Rowling, Warner Brothers etc. This story is written solely for entertainment and no profit. _**

**_A/N: (The original author's note has been removed), This is my first fic, using one of my favourite (and sadly, most overused) HP plots - timetravel - I've tried to be as original and avoid clichés as much as possible, but feedback on how successful I've been is always appreciated! _**

* * *

"What do we do?" Hermione asked Harry, helpless to prevent her trembling - Death Eaters could be heard from beyond the doorway, and needless to say, their intentions were anything but friendly. Book learning was of no use now - and in the DA, she'd always known she'd never come to any _real _harm, but this, this was real, far more real than Hermione would like to admit - their lives were in danger, and her mind had gone blank, save for one thought - escape. 

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," Harry replied, far more calmly than Hermione herself felt, and she followed him blindly, hoping Harry had a plan but knowing he didn't. "Let's get away from this door."

They ran away from the door, as quietly as possible in this situation, past the room's sole illumination - the bell jar in which a humming bird continued in it's cycle of hatching and 'unhatching', sneaking towards the exit into the circular hallway, which lay at the far end of the room, a tense silence hovering over them for fear of attracting the other Death Eaters. The door lay no further than fifteen feet away, when the bang of a large and heavy object echoed through the room, colliding with the door which Hermione had charmed shut, and Hermione started, surprised, whilst Harry dragged her onwards.

"Stand aside!" ordered a rough voice. "_Alohamora!"_

The door blasted open and Hermione, Harry and Neville dived instinctively beneath the desks. Hermione could hear the swish of the Death Eater's robes, their feet moving rapidly. She pressed herself further into the desk, attempting to control her breathing, to make it soundless, as animal being stalked by a predator does, lest she be discovered.

"They might've run straight through to the hall." Suggested the harsh-voiced Death Eater.

"Check under the desks." Commanded a second voice.

Hermione gripped her wand tightly, watching the knees of the Death Eaters bend, choosing a Death Eater to curse.

"STUPEFY!" Harry yelled, and a Death Eater fell backwards into a large grandfather clock, with a resounding clang. Hermione sent a petrifying spell, which flew past the other Death Eater, bounced off a wall, and dissipated as it hit a desk. Hurriedly, Hermione crawled out from under the desk, trying to get a better aim, burying her fear under adrenaline.

"_Avada -"_

The Death Eater they had missed brandished his wand, as Harry threw himself at the Death Eater's knees causing them to topple and his aim to go awry. Hermione yanked herself entirely out from under the desk, and flung herself out of the way as she heard;

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Hermione jumped to her feet, as Harry and the Death Eater's wands soared through the air, back towards the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy. Both scrambled to their feet, and tore after their wands, the Death Eater in the lead, Harry hot on his heels, with Neville in pursuit, wearing a horrified expression. Hermione stood dumbstruck for a moment, before tearing after them, keen to avoid separation.

"Get out of the way Harry!" she heard Neville yell, keen to repair the damage he had wrought and saw Harry swerve to one side as Neville yelled, "STUPEFY!" Hermione strained her leg muscles, pushing herself to move faster.

The jet of red light missed the Death Eater completely, striking a glass-fronted cabinet, filled with hourglasses of various sizes. The cabinet crashed to the floor the hour-glasses shattered, glass shards flew everywhere, sprang back up the wall, mended, hour-glasses disappearing one by one, as if they'd never existed –

The Death Eater had picked up his wand, which lay beside the glistening bell jar. Harry hurdled over a desk, hiding, as the man turned. His mask slipped and he yanked it off, shouting "STUP-"

"STUPEFY!" Hermione screamed, finally catching up with Harry and Neville, her spell striking the Death Eater in the middle of his chest, causing him to tense and freeze, his wand arm still raised. His wand slipped out of his hand, to the floor, with a clatter and he crumpled backwards, the bell jar lying in his path.

Hermione fully expected to hear a dull clunk as the man's head collided with the bell-jar, but instead, his head sank through the bell-jar, as though it were no more than water, sliding through the surface of the jar, and he lay prone, sprawled on a table, his head in the jar of glittering wind. As the other two stood, watching the Death Eater's plight, Hermione waved her wand.

"Accio wand!" she cried, catching Harry's wand as it flew from a dark corner, and she tossed to Harry.

"Thanks," Harry caught the wand one handed. "Right, let's get out of -"

"Look!" Neville cried, looking puzzled. He was gazing at the wall from which the many-sized hour glasses had once been encased. Now only the largest of which remained, set into the wall, which spun as they watched. The area where the hour-glasses had fallen was inexplicably lighter – it's source of light something other than the bell jar, the light permeating the area where the hour-glasses had once been, yet casting no light on any other surface. As they watched two vague figures sped past, and Hermione thought she heard,

"_Didn't you hear, Bagman's been let off the Death Eater charges?"_

"_Apparently he's coming to work at the ministry!"_

"_Oh God, can you imagine it?"_

"Did you hear that?" Hermione asked, glancing at Harry and Neville, both of whom were still staring at the wall, fear overtaken by a natural curiosity.

"Hear what?" asked Neville bemusedly.

"I heard it." Harry looked at Hermione curiously, expecting an explanation forthcoming. "Something about Bagman and Death Eaters."

"Bagman was once under trial for Death Eater charges, remember Harry?" Hermione whispered, eyeing the wall, mind sorting and discarding viable theories.

"When was that?" Harry was slightly stunned.

"Sometime just after You-Know-Who's downfall. Percy told us at the Quidditch World Cup." Hermione took a step closer to the wall, which was cycling through stages of bumblebee light, sometimes brightly lit, and sometimes bathed in darkness. "I wonder…" she whispered, mind narrowing down on one cause in particular.

"But I can't hear anything!" Neville interjected, staring between the two of them looking surprised and uncomprehending.

"_You've got to be kidding me! Black would never do anything like that!" _

"_Have a look at the headline then! 'Black Blows Up Best Friend - Suspected of Death Eater Involvement' - it goes on!"_

"I think it's…time." said Hermione, fingertips still outstretched. "Those hourglasses. Did they look familiar to you Harry?"

"Time-turners!" said Harry, awestruck.

"What?" Neville looked confused, and was glancing worriedly round the room. "We should get going before more Death Eaters come!" he said, tugging on Harry's sleeve where Harry stood transfixed.

"So why can't Neville hear it Hermione?"

"Hear what!" Neville whispered, shaking Harry's sleeve harder.

"I don't – my time-turner!" said Hermione elatedly.

"What about it?" Harry still stood staring at the wall, mesmerized.

"STUPEFY!" someone roared, and the three of them heard a distant scream and a crash. Neville's face turned ashen, and Harry yelled. "RON? GINNY? LUNA?"

"Shut up Harry!" Hermione hissed, spinning on the spot, a tremor in her voice betraying her fear. "They'll hear you!"

The Death Eater with his head in the bell jar, his head reverted to a baby-like state, flailed dangerously on the desk, legs floundering in the air, which Hermione was forced to duck under. Footsteps grew louder, coming towards them and Hermione realised, her heart sinking, that Harry had given away their location.

"Come on!" Harry urged, them forward, leaving the baby-faced Death Eater, thrashing on the desk. They sprinted towards the door that stood open at the other end of the room, which would take them back, into the black corridor. They were halfway there when two more Death Eaters burst into the room. Harry veered left and Hermione and Neville followed, into a small alcove, facing a small door. Harry yanked the door handle, pumping it up and down, but to no avail.

"Alohamora!" Hermione cried, and Harry tried the door again. Evidently the spells on the door were too powerful for the spell.

"DUCK!" yelled Neville as a flash of green light jettisoned over their heads, striking the stone above, reducing the stone it struck to dust. The two Death Eaters tore towards them and Harry pushed Hermione and Neville away from the doorway as they dashed back down the room, away from the Death-Eaters, back towards the lone time-turner.

"WE'VE GOT POTTER-, " One of the Death Eaters yelled as they backed into the corner, wands outstretched, and his voice mad with triumph.

Hermione flicked her wand at him, "_Silencio!" _Cutting the Death Eater's speech short, although he continued to mouth words, no sounds emitted from the mask. The second Death Eater shoved the first aside, raising his wand, as Harry shouted,

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

The Death Eater's limbs snapped to his body, and he toppled forwards at Harry's feet stiff as a board, and leaving him utterly incapable.

Hermione looked at Harry, "Well done, Ha-" The first Death Eater, whom Hermione had silenced, made a slashing movement with his wand, causing purple fire to erupt over Hermione's chest, agonizing pain spreading across her chest, rendering it difficult for her to breathe, her ribs popping. She gave a small "Oh!" of surprise, took a slight step backwards, and crumpled against the wall.

"HERMIONE!" Harry cried, as Hermione crumpled backwards, sinking back against the wall. Or so Harry thought she would. As Hermione struck the wall, she sank through, into it, her body becoming fainter, more vague, an outline as the bodies and voices that had past before were.

"HERMIONE!" Harry fell to his knees beside the wall, scrabbling at it, clawing desperately trying to reach Hermione, where she lay. His hand sank into the wall, and Harry tried desperately to grab Hermione, but his hand would go no further - he couldn't reach her, no matter how he hard he tried. Panic began to set in, tendrils creeping across his mind, a deep set fear began to take hold. _Would any of them get out of there alive?_

"HARRY!" Neville crawled towards Harry, his wand held in front of him. The Death Eater kicked out hard at Neville's head, snapping Neville's wand in two and his foot connecting with Neville's nose, which broke with a loud crack. Neville howled in pain and retreated clutching his nose.

Harry twisted round, his reverie broken as he heard the cracking noise, wand outstretched. The Death Eater had removed his mask, and with a jolt of horror Harry recognized him. It was Antonin Dolohov – the man responsible for the murder of the Prewetts, recently liberated from Azkaban.

Dolohov smiled, a predator's triumphant grin, and gestured threateningly towards the prophecy, himself and Neville, making his meaning perfectly clear – the Prophecy or the boy's dead.

"And we both won't die when I hand it over!" Harry spat defiantly grasping the prophecy closer towards him. He could still see Hermione vaguely, beyond the wall, lying motionless – if he could just get rid of the Death Eater…

Harry edged towards Neville, clutching the prophecy still more tightly.

"Don'd gibb it do him!" Neville muttered fiercely, blood streaming from his nose, dripping off his chin, and grasping the fragments of his wand. "Don'd you dare gibb id to him!"

A thundering crash echoed round the room, distracting Dolohov momentarily, and he turned his head – the baby-faced Death Eater had rolled off the desk, limbs still flailing and wailing dreadfully. Harry seized the opportunity granted him.

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

The spell struck Dolohov whilst he was turned, and, unable to counter it, he toppled over his companion, as stiff as the Death Eater before him, unable to move except for his eyes, which dashed frantically from side to side.

"Hermione!" Harry knelt by the wall once more, plunging his hand into the wall, trying desperately to reach her, but his hand would not move any further and try as he might, he couldn't touch her.

"Harry, she'd gone." Neville crawled over to him. "She disappearded indo the wall."

"I can see her!" Harry said desperately, all thoughts of escape from the Ministry fled from his mind. "She's still there - I can touch her!"

"Whad about the others?" Neville asked, as a scream reverberated in the distance.

* * *

_BIZARRE MATERIALISATION IN MINISTRY_

_Enoch Bullard_

_Rumours are abound of bizarre happenings within the Ministry of Magic, involving the appearance of someone within the deeper levels of the Ministry._

_"Yes it's very mysterious and unusual, but I can't talk about it, so stop asking me questions," was the response from a Ministry official, who refused to give his name or speak further as he exited the ministry last night._

_The breach in the Ministry's security has raised concerns about the power of the Ministry– if it cannot guard it's own headquarters, can we trust it to guard our nation?_

_This sentiment was echoed by many prominent members of society, who have great influence within the Ministry, who, normally privy to the workings of the Ministry, have been left in the dark._

_Our source commented - ' It's all very strange. It's being kept very quiet and anyone who knows anything at all about these bizarre happenings isn't saying anything.'_

_Ministry spokeswizards have refused to release the information gathered on the individual and, a growing number of the wizarding community are coming to believe that the individual is in Saint Mungo's. The staff at Saint Mungo's have refused to comment thus far, going as far as to threaten the reporter if investigation continues._

_Patients within the hospital have had to sign a confidentiality contract, further raising suspicions that the individual in question (cont page 3, column 2)_

The wizard reading the paper laughed. "What a load of bull!" He addressed his companion, as he threw the newspaper into a bin.

His companion rolled his eyes. "It's by Enoch Bullard, remember?"

"Good point!" the wizard laughed further. "Now d'you fancy a pint of firewhisky down at The Leaky Cauldron?"

"Sure." The second wizard nodded. "Aren't you going to read anymore of that?" He nodded his head towards the newspaper, which lay in the bin beside them.

"Why bother? Everyone knows The Prophet makes it all up!"

The two wizards strolled up Diagon Alley, leaving the newspaper, lying in the bin, the picture of the harassed looking individual facing downwards.

_**

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	2. Findings, Explanations and Awakenings

**_Disclaimer: That loophole that means I own all of Harry Potter hasn't yet been invented – it still all belongs to J.K.Rowling, Warner Brothers and (I think) Scholastic Books. I am making no profit from this story - it has been written solely for pleasure._**

_**A/N: I'm incredibly flattered about the response to this fic, so thank you so much, to all you lot who have added me to your alerts/favourites and read this fic thus far!**_

_**Thanks go out to Voldie's Mistress, p, Aly Martin, anglbby989, MoonNightLover and tate4eva, for fantastic reviews!**_

_**Hope you all like the chapter –**__**unfortunately this is the 'explanation' chapter, but everything will liven up in the next!**_

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Enid stepped into the lift, pressing the number nine, and she watched as the grilles slid shut with a resounding 'clang', shuddering as the lift jolted and clattered it's way down, her eyes firmly shut. As a muggleborn, used to smooth, silent lifts, the jarring, jolting lift made her nervous – it often felt as though it were going to fall at any second. 

She was often the butt of gentle teasing because of this, sometimes slightly more vicious jibes were directed at her – 'mudblood' was a more common epithet, but only out of earshot. The lift stopped abruptly, it's incessant clanging ceasing momentarily – she opened her eyes. A shock of red hair greeted her.

"Hi Arthur."

The red headed wizard jumped, surprised. Turning round, he smiled. "Hi Enid. You're early! On your way down then?"

"Someone in the Magical Maintenance accidentally created thunderstorms in the department." Enid murmured tiredly, rubbing her eyes in a vain attempt to rub away her sleepiness with it - but Merlin, those _incompetants - _and she was expected to clean up after them, at this hour in the morning!

"That department always seems to have leakages," Arthur nodded sympathetically, as a solitary plane nosedived towards his head, which he caught, flicking open to read it. "For the past three weeks we've had hurricanes outside – and sometimes inside!"

Enid smiled awkwardly. "I remember that. Well, I remember Moody chewing some poor soul's ear off!"

The clanging paused momentarily again, and a flurry of more paper planes flew in, fluttering around their heads. The golden grilles clattered together, and the lift resumed its movement.

"So how's Molly?" Enid asked, curiosity mingling with common courtesy. "Has she found out about the oven yet?"

"Not yet." Arthur sighed, scrunching the parchment up. "She found the washering machine though."

"What did the washing machine do?" Enid was curious as to what mishap Arthur had caused this time - it was something of an inside joke in the Ministry that the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad spent more time at the Weasley's than they did anywhere else.

"Well, it developed an unfortunate tendency to burp when it was washing - it shot clothes and bubbles all over the place!"

Enid laughed, imagining Molly's face as she envisioned a crazed washing machine burping clothes. "I bet Molly _loved _that!"

Arthur winced, probably in memory of Molly's telling off, Enid thought. "Molly most definitely didn't!" he replied, rubbing the bald spot, at the top of his head. "Bill and Charlie did though -they thought it was a game!"

"I can imagine," Enid replied, smiling, as she rummaged around in her bag, with a small frown of concentration. "By the way, I've got some more plugs for you Arthur!"

"Really?" Arthur sounded excited. "They run off ekeltricity, right? I've got a fairly good collection now."

"Yes, these are the German and American ones I promised!" Enid tipped the plugs into Arthur's hands, laughing nervously as his face lit up.

"Best not let Molly see them!" Arthur grinned at her, obviously attempting to put Enid more at ease.

"I don't think she'd be best pleased." Enid smiled, as the lift stopped with a bang, allowing a number of memos to fly out and half-a-dozen more to fly in. "British plugs she might be able to understand, but other countries' plugs? I'm not so certain!"

"I think I'll have to agree there!" Arthur grinned once more, gazing at the plugs. "Thanks Enid!"

"This is my floor," Arthur stepped out the lift, waving to Enid as he did so. "See you."

Enid gave him a nervy wave as the lift doors shut. The memos flew in circles, seemingly impatient. Enid removed one that had nose-dived into her hair with a frown - someone's spell casting was a little off. The lift continued to chunder on it's way down through the levels, and Enid met no-one on the way down, but then again, no came into work this early unless they had to or where merely stupid. 'The Department of Mysteries' a cool female voice stated, over the squeal of the braking lift, the grilles dragging open and Enid exited the lift with a sigh of relief, her knees trembling only slightly, amazed as always that she'd made it down to work _alive._

Her relief was, however, short lived. Rain poured from the black clouds that filled the corridor, and the static from the lightening made her hair stand on end, changing her appearance from normal to slightly crazed, and she could do nothing until she'd performed her signature code - damn the fanatical Ministry policies. She drew her signature in the air - the ankh, drawing the energy through her, her arm pulsing, magic coursing through her veins, before bursting outwards to form the symbol in the air which hung motionless in the air - and for a second, Enid feared she'd miscast the spell, and eyeing it fearfully, drew back towards the promised safety of the lift - squealing breaks or no. Swollen and saturated, the ankh lingered for a moment longer before disappating softly, and Enid - soaked to the skin - flicked her wand, relieved that she hadn't miscast the spell.

"_Meteolojinx recanto."_

There was a slight popping noise as the clouds disappeared, leaving only the puddles and scorch marks as testimony to their existence. Enid ignored these, picking her way down the corridor, heading towards her office.

Turning a corner hurriedly, eager to get on with the day's work, so that she might get home before ten o'clock that night, Enid gasped at the sight that greeted her – a prone body lay on the floor…

* * *

"Yes, I'm positive that no-one could get into the Department without authorized access!" Enid repeated. 

She refrained from mentioning that the Ministry's numerous anti-apparation wards – strengthened over the centuries – security guards and spells – added to over the war – _and _not to mention the taskforce aurors, located in the Ministry, made it almost impregnable – although it took a great deal of self-control. Enid was rarely confrontational, but the dim-witted auror in front of her was pushing his luck.

"So let's go over this again." The auror stated, and Enid nearly groaned aloud. "You came in early to the Ministry to fix a jinx in the Department of Mysteries, as no-one but the Unspeakables is permitted there, correct?"

"Yes." _For the love of God, _she added mentally.

"And," the irritating auror added, "Whilst there you found the body of a girl, located?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you." Enid replied patiently – annoying the auror would detain her longer than necessary, not that she'd ever snap at him anyway.

"Miss Jones it is imperative that you inform of us of all relevant information, concerning this case - " The auror began haughtily.

"Ah, but you're forgetting Pritchard, something vitally important about the Unspeakables." A voice interrupted the auror, and Enid inwardly sighed in relief.

"I'm sure that, Miss…Jones? Would tell you if she could, but as it as Pritchard, she will have entered a binding magical contract, upon joining the Unspeakables, rendering her unable to tell you this information. Hence the term Unspeakables." The auror who had been irritating Enid so, flushed red. "I'll conclude this interview Pritchard. You're dismissed."

The pompous auror picked himself up, out of the chair and fled the room, red-cheeked in embarrassment. The second auror extended a hand to Enid, "Benjy Fenwick."

"Um…" Enid paused, taken aback. "Enid Jones." She said, shaking the auror's hand, feeling exceedingly grateful to the auror.

"Not quite sure then? Any relation to Hestia Jones?" Benjy asked, as he let go of her hand.

Enid pulled a face, feeling far more at ease with this auror than the previous. "Muggleborn, so I'm afraid not."

"Right," Benjy scanned the case notes. "Breach in ministry defences, individual in question currently located in Saint Mungo's…"

"Are you sure reading that aloud in front of me is such a good idea?" Enid asked pointedly. Benjy waved a hand.

"Probably not." Benjy frowned, reviewing the minutes taken by the Quick Quotes Quill. "Pritchard's useless," he muttered under his breath. "Why not? You're an Unspeakable," he pointed out, with a glance upwards. "How likely are you to blab? Anyway, I came up to say, we've got new evidence on the case, just released from the Department of Mysteries." He wiggled his eyebrows, feigning shock. "First thing we've ever heard from there!"

"Well we _are _known as the Unspeakables!" Enid reminded him with a grin – there was something endearing about Benjy - an air surrounded him that immediately put you at ease, although his infomality was slightly disconcerting.

"Fair enough." Benjy threw down the case notes onto the desk, leaning forward, his voice taking on an earnest note and he ticked off the points on his fingers. "Okay, here's the facts, we both know that it's almost impossible to break into the Ministry, what with all the extra security – and this girl is only about sixteen, or at least that's what our identifying spells are telling us. And added to that, she's got pretty bad internal injuries, so there's no way she's in a fit state to have broken in anywhere. The information that makes this so interesting is that your department says the evidence suggests," his fingers making quotation marks, " 'that there has been a rupture in the fabric of time.' So basically, anything you can tell us about the 'circumstances in which she was found' would be rather helpful. And that's it, in a nutshell." Benjy leant back against his chair, evidently waiting for Enid's reply.

"I don't know…I mean…" Enid began, her mind rapidly examining the various choices. "I'm not sure how much I can tell you." She finished.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Benjy slapped himself in the forehead, and rummaging about in a file he'd brought with him. Several minutes of frantic parchment scattering later, and he held a thin piece of parchment in front of him. "Knew I had it somewhere!" He said, cheerfully, handing it to Enid.

Enid scanned the parchment, at first with little interest, and after gathering the general gist of it, examining it more closely. "This claims to temporarily release me from my Unspeakable oath?" she asked sceptically. "And binds you into a contract, not to reveal anything that doesn't concern this case?"

"Pretty much, yep." Benjy leaned back against the chair, yawning.

"How can you possibly be sure?" Enid asked, examining the paper once more.

"Well there's one way to find out!" Benjy took the paper out of her limp grasp.

"You must be joking." Enid felt weak – surely he didn't intend to just road test this, without _any _precautions?

"I assure you I'm not." Benjy sounded serious for the first time. "I don't joke around when it comes to things like this. I promise you, you'll be fine."

Enid searched Benjy's eyes, where sincerity mingled with concern. "Alright." She sighed inwardly. "I'll do it." She grabbed the parchment and signed the paper with a flourish. "The bare facts?"

"Just the bare facts for now – then the theories."

"I thought the auror department didn't believe in theories."

"Nah, that's just Mad-Eye. Wild theories are my speciality, as I've been told!"

"Okay," Enid took a breath, and began to explain. "I'd come in early, because Maintenance had flooed me, and told me something had gone wrong with a charm in my department and of course, no-one's allowed down there but the Unspeakables and the Minister-"

"Who obviously, Maintenance isn't going to disturb to fix a jinx!" Benjy interrupted.

"Obviously," Enid agreed. "And as the most junior member, they figured I was easy prey-"

"Not to mention that you're obviously very easy going, whereas anyone else would've kicked up a great big fuss."

"Really?" _Great, I'm reputed as a pushover -_ Enid shrugged. "Oh well. So anyway, I came in early and cleared up the Department, which didn't really take long and then made my way to my office, and as I turned the corner, I came across a body -"

"Where was this?"

Enid stopped herself rolling her eyes with difficulty– he interrupted her more often than her nephew used to! "In the Time Room, beneath the..."

"Beneath the?"

Enid frowned "I'm not…this is relevant isn't it?" "

"The whole 'rupture in time' thing makes that a yes."

"Fine. We're investigating time in the time room. I found her beneath the prototype time-turner."

"Illuminating."

"Well, I found her there – and that's one of the only places I could possibly think of that, that could occur…I mean." Enid said, unconsciously making the transition into 'lecture mode'. "Currently, I'd say, even when we perfect the time-turners, a single one alone wouldn't be enough to send you back more than a week or so – and this girl, she's a mystery?"

"No records on her, nada."

"Well, unless something more powerful's been invented in the future – then I'd say that breaking even a single time-turner couldn't cause a rupture in time – certainly not one great enough to bring her back before she was born. Because the thing is," she continued, "Considering how carefully monitored this project is, I doubt that anyone would want – or be permitted - to create a device that powerful – imagine what people could do with it? What would happen if _one _happened to shatter?" Enid shuddered. "I dread to think."

"So somehow," Benjy stated. "Something happened, with a large number of time-turners, somewhere and this girl got sent through the rupture."

"My only question, is how?" Enid pondered. "To go back through a rupture," She explained to Benjy who leaned forward in interest. "You'd have to have previously had _something _to do with a time-turner. Otherwise you wouldn't be able to pass through – you'd be anchored in the present. But if you'd gone back in time before," she continued. "You'd be-"

"Pulled into the past." Benjy finished.

"Well, if you've travelled in time," Enid explained, understanding the situation more, how the girl had appeared there. "You belong less to your own time, if you get me." She glanced at Benjy, who nodded. "It's…how do I explain this? The anchor's drifted a little – you're no longer anchored to _that_ particular time, your present. Which means you can become susceptible to the rupture."

"This all makes so much more sense!" Benjy banged his hand down on the desk, a delighted expression crossing his face.

"This is all hypothetical you know…" Enid's voice died away.

"It all fits though!" Benjy protested, "Sorry, continue with the story."

Enid nodded. "Anyway, I checked her pulse-"

"Just like that?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Enid asked impatiently, before she slammed a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't be!" Benjy laughed loudly. "Sorry! Carry on, and I'll try not to interrupt!"

"Alright…well that's actually about it. After screaming and getting over the shock," she added,. "I checked her pulse and saw she was still alive, then I flooed Saint Mungo's from my office, got her out of there…and you know the rest."

"You know what?" Benjy stated, "I think we've got enough to get you off the hook for now. No more interviews for a while!"

"Hmm…" Enid looked politely sceptical.

"Well," Benjy admitted, "You might have to have an interview with Mad-Eye Moody."

There was a slight gap in the conversation and Enid felt a question that had been plaguing her since the discovery of the girl, rise to the fore of her mind – and slid out of her throat without warning.

"But…" Enid hesitated, "What about the girl? What'll happen to her?"

"I dunno. The Ministry'll sort it out I s'pose."

"If it's not too much of a problem, I'd like to visit her." Enid felt a little awkward making such an unorthodox request.

"Why?" Benjy didn't appear scornful; instead an intriguing mixture of curiosity and thought crossed his face. "What do you care about her?"

Enid squirmed. "Well…I don't know." She replied slowly. "It just feels like she's my responsibility I guess, since I found her."

Benjy looked thoughtful, "I'll arrange a meeting as soon as I can then!"

"Um…thank you." Enid said, perplexed, pulling her chair back from the table. "I guess I'll be seeing you around."

"Probably." Benjy escorted her to the door. "Enjoy meeting Mad-Eye!"

"I'll be certain to." Enid smiled wryly.

* * *

A familiar clinical scent washed into her nostrils, bringing childhood memories of dull afternoons ensconced in her parent's dentistry. Blinking blearily, she opened her eyes, her mind uncharacteristically blank. She vaguely wondered why it was so difficult to breathe.

That sparked a flurry of memories, that flooded into her mind, and Hermione sat up, suppressing a shriek as a dagger-sharp pain tore through her chest – increasing her breathing difficulties and ripping through her mind, the only bonus being the fact that the pain lifted the fog from her mind.

"Oh you're awake!"

Hermione jerked her head in the direction of the speaker, regretting it a moment later, as the dull throbbing in her head increased to a roar. The speaker sat on a chair beside her, a discarded magazine sitting next to her, a copy of _'Transfiguration Today', _an mousy fringe falling into her eyes – and was someone Hermione had never seen before in her life.

"I am." Hermione stated, wincing as her head throbbed particularly nastily again as she spoke. "Where am I? What happened to Harry and Ron? Are they alright?"

"You're in Saint Mungo's." The witch replied, speaking slowly, as if she were considering what she was about to say next. "And…I have to ask…who _are _Harry and Ron?"

Hermione was flabbergasted. Who was this woman? How could she not know who Harry and Ron were? Ron she could understand – he wasn't exactly famous – not wishing to be derogatory to him in any manner, but Harry? Harry was _the-boy-who-lived_, much as he might he wish he wasn't – the Minister of _Bulgaria_ had heard of him. So how could this woman not have?

"Harry and Ron…are my friends." She began as soothingly as she could with the pain racking her. "Are you sure you should be wandering the corridors alone?" Hermione continued gently.

Enid stared at the girl, dumbstruck for a moment – had her brains been addled by her trip in time? Then she realised what the girl thought – she thought Enid was a patient! Enid couldn't decide whether to laugh or be offended. In the end she chose the middle route. "I'm not a patient." She replied, her tone peppered with amusement.

The girl's tone immediately changed. "But then how could you not…" she began bossily, but she tailed off, "It's not possible!" she muttered. "Could you…could you tell me the date today?" she asked, a hopeful look emerging on her panic-stricken face.

Enid took a breath. "It's June the eleventh." She replied as evenly as she could – praying that the mediwitch would return soon.

"What year is it?" She asked, glancing sideways at the copy of Transfiguration Today. "Is it 1996?" She looked so terribly hopeful, the kind of hope that was born out of desperation.

Enid closed her eyes, hating the cruel fate that had chosen her to be the one to bear the news. Slightly, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head, hating herself at that moment. She heard the girl's sharp intake of breath.

Hermione's world had crumpled. "Then…what year…what year is it?" She asked, praying that she wasn't so far back that she would never see Harry, Ron or her family again – although as she thought this, she knew she couldn't be too far back, not before the original publication of Transfiguration Today at any rate.

The woman, her eyes still shut, opened her mouth slightly, and shut it again, and Hermione opened her mouth to protest, to shake it out of the woman – her distaste for violence be damned, she had to know! The woman groped about on the chair for the magazine, handing it to her wordlessly and Hermione understood the action.

Hands shaking she poured over the cover, searching for one thing – the date. There at the top corner she read what she had been looking for: June 6th….1976. Hermione's mind went into overload. She was twenty years in the past, horror and shock overtaking her, her mind atypically blank. With the mental numbness came physical agony and Hermione almost screamed in pain, as the pain in her head went into overdrive and her ribs felt as though they were being squeezed out of her.

The woman next to her seized a potion, "Drink this, it'll make it stop!" And although Hermione had an aversion to drinking potions offered to her by strangers, she drunk it down, willing the pain to end. Slowly, the pain ebbed away from her, dulling to a gentle throb instead of the burning, white-hot fury it had been a moment ago. In the reprieve her mind returned to its thoughts.

Twenty years in the past? What would become of her? She was alive three years before she was born. What would she do? She remembered the department of Mysteries, the fight and flight from the Hall of Prophecy and…the Time Room. Hermione's mind connected together the dots. A sense of rising curiosity rose in Hermione's mind – how did the woman know all this?

"Who are you?" Hermione asked, an accusatory tone entering her voice.

"Enid Jones," Enid answered, and she hesitated before adding, "I'm an Unspeakable."

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, Hermione's main visitor was Enid, and they grew to know each other fairly well, the conversation generally flowing although there was the odd awkward silence. These visits had also prevented Hermione from dwelling on the future and the loss of her friends - during the visits at least. 

Hermione had also received visits from Mad-Eye Moody – who plagued her with suspicious questions that reminded Hermione of the old (or future) Mad-Eye Moody greatly, although his nose was still intact. An auror named Benjy Fenwick visited with Enid a couple of times, and had a terrific sense of humour, even if his tendency to constantly interrupt a story had driven Hermione to despair sometimes. The visits Hermione grew to dread, were those from a particularly burecratic official, called Ezekiel Nott, a stringy man, who was graced with a blonde moustache with twitched when he spoke.

There had been a loud confrontation with Nott last time he had appeared, and he had left – furious.

_Hermione glared at him. "I'm sure the Ministry would love to cater for a penniless orphan such as myself, wouldn't they Mr Nott – after all they've served house elves so well!"_

_"What the Ministry does with it's own is none of your business girl!"_

_Nott had slammed the door after him, eliciting a gasp from a nearby mediwitch._

Hermione dreaded his return, and had informed Enid of this, in not so many words – she was afraid Nott would wreak revenge upon her, although she had not informed Enid of his status of a Death Eater – that would change far more than she already had.

* * *

Enid edged into a dimly lit pub in a muggle bar – Benjy had told her to meet him here. Shuffling up to the bar, she ordered a glass of water – causing the barkeep, who looked as though he'd had a few too many of his own pub lunches, to scowl at her, for such a miserly order. Enid didn't care for once; she had far greater concerns than the opinion of a bartender. 

Sitting at a table, sipping her water, Enid tried to ignore the stares of the bar's usual patrons, wondering why on earth Benjy had wanted to meet her here – in a seedy bar in the back streets of muggle London – of all places.

When she'd first mentioned what she knew of Hermione's fears about Nott and his thinly veiled threats, Benjy had been uncharacteristically silent, and for a moment Enid was afraid she'd offended him in some way. Instead he'd told her in loud tones that she wasn't to pester him again, whilst handing her a note. The note had simply read, '_Can't speak more now.' _A time and an address – and here she was, sipping water out of a dirty glass, and awaiting Benjy's arrival.

She'd come slightly early and was consequently perched on a dingy chair, hearing the full-throated roars of the football supporters in the corner. After an age, the door swung open and Benjy walked in. Enid stood to greet him, but he strode past her to the bar, ordering a small lager. Enid watched him curiously, Seconds later, he appeared at Enid's side, clutching his drink.

"The barman doesn't let you stay if you don't buy something, he's a bit of a miserable old git!" Benjy said, by way of explanation. "Sorry about before – it was the only way I could think of to put them off my scent."

Enid was puzzled. "I don't mean to pry, but who's them?"

Ben lowered his voice. "Tell me, what do you know about the Order of the Phoenix?"

**_

* * *

_**

**_There'll be more of Hermione in the next chapter as well as the Order of the Phoenix, and possibly a little of the Marauders!_**


	3. Sourness and a Skirmish

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter associated characters/items/events do _not _belong to me, but to J.K.Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic Books and anyone else I'm unaware of. Unfortunately this list doesn't include myself - I'm writing this story solely for my own enjoyment!**

**A/N: Well this is it, the next chapter – now something exciting **_**does **_**happen in this chapter (although it's towards the end!). Apologies for the delay, but my return to school has delayed the process. A special thanks go to my reviewers: **

**MoonNightLover, Caitlyn62442 and Aly Martin**

**For fun, I'm offering a cameo for the first person to review this chapter (and reply) in the next chapter, just to see what it's like. **

**On with the story!**

* * *

"_Tell me, what do you know about the Order of the Phoenix?"_

_Enid's eyes bugged, and she gasped softly. "The Order of the Phoenix?" she queried. "They exist?" Her eyes narrowed.  
_

_Ben looked astounded. "Of course!" _

_Enid considered him - so that was why he had been so friendly. He had been recruiting - if he was telling the truth - should she trust him, or should she run?_

* * *

Hermione bolted upright, emerging from the depths of a dream, the remnants of sleep clinging to her, panting heavily. 

She'd dreamt of it again – a nightmare that plagued her, haunting her dreams – she relived the worst day of her life thus far, that night at the ministry.

Someone pounded at the door, "Hermione? Hermione? Can I come in?" It was Enid.

Hermione trembled, but managed to answer tremulously: "Come in." The door opened slightly, and Enid slipped in, clutching a mug of tea.

"Another nightmare?" she asked, handing the mug to Hermione, who clutched at the cup with shaking fingers, nearly scalding her fingers as she slopped hot tea over the edges.

"Sorry," Hermione said quietly, her voice hoarse.

"Not a problem," Enid smiled gently, "Scourgify." She waved her wand at the rapidly spreading tea-stain, which disappeared. She hugged Hermione close for a second, saying nothing, simply sitting.

"I probably should take some dreamless sleep shouldn't I?" Hermione began.

"It might not work," Enid told her. "It's not infallible."

"I know – it's written in Magical Drafts and Potions that-"

"When the dreamer is under extreme stress, or is suffering the after-effects of a severe magical upheaval then the potion will have less effect or none at all, and it goes into details with levels of magical degrees." Enid finished, waving a hand. "You do remember what Benjy told you?" She asked, frowning.

Hermione sighed, rubbing her face with her palms. "Not to dwell on it – it's more difficult than it sounds. It is, was, my life – it's difficult to forget."

"I don't think that was quite what Benjy meant."

"I can't wrench my thought's from it!" Hermione tried to explain. "I've looked in every book I can possibly find, I've done research but there's nothing _conclusive_!"

"I did say." Enid informed her quietly. "That we've only just beginning to understand fully the ins and outs of time-travel – Our research, whilst extensive, is still experimental - you've read it. In the mean time, try not to think about it."

Hermione looked reluctant. "What about my research? All of it implies that I _could _return to the future."

"Hermione." Enid ran her hand through her hair – frustrated. "Look, yes you _might _return one day – but that's a _might!_ It's not a guarantee, and you can't waste your life with what ifs! We've got to go to Diagon Alley today – could you get ready?" Enid banished the stack of books and papers from beside Hermione's bed – Hermione gave a small squeak of indignation, and opened her mouth to protest, but Enid had already swept out of the room. "And we've got to visit the Order!" she called up the stairs after her.

Hermione began to get dressed, her mood instantly soured.

When Hermione finally descended, bearing an empty mug, Enid glanced once at her face, before deciding that a comment wasn't worth it. Instead, she snatched Hermione's cup, throwing it into the sink, and grabbing her handbag.

"Gringott's key – check. House keys – check." Enid muttered to herself, checking the contents of her purse. When Enid was satisfied that everything was in place, she began disabling the many spells and wards on her apartment, and as they stepped out of the front door, she gripped Hermione's wrist tightly and apparated.

* * *

Hermione felt as though she were being squeezed through a rubber tube, a bone-crushing pressure hammering them from all sides. She gasped as they re-appeared; already having mentally decided that floo-powder was her preferred method of travel. 

A common town house, the other side of London, stood in front of them, almost identical to the houses on either side of it - it had little distinguish it from any other house in that area of London. In fact, this house was so unremarkable that your eyes would simply slide past it – unless you knew what it was.

Enid ambled up to the front door, after subtly casting '_Homenum Revelio' _which revealed they were alone, and pressed her wand against the wood of the door. Hermione watched with interest, already trying to gauge the spell that might have been used for such an effect – she was sure she'd read about something similar to this in _Bewitchments for the Wiser Wizard, _which contained great details on safety charms.

However, Hermione had little time to contemplate this, as the door swung open abruptly and she was ushered in. Inside it was a fairly homey room, well lit, and cheerful, in contrast to the discussions Hermione knew took place here.

"I've just got to deliver a report." Enid muttered to Hermione, pushing open the door to the 'meeting room'.

Marlene McKinnon, Benjy, the newly recruited Sturgis Podmore and Mad-Eye Moody sat clustered round one end of the table, pouring over a large, moving map.

"Enid! Hermione!" Marlene leapt up from the map, dashing over to envelop them both in an enthusiastic hug. "We're just going over the Ministry plans."

"Marlene!" Mad-Eye barked. "If that's Travers and Dolohov in disguise, you're taking the blame!" He eyed them suspiciously, although he grinned at Marlene, making Enid squirm and Hermione indignant.

"Don't you trust Dumbledore's protections Mad-Eye?" she asked him pointedly.

Marlene rolled her eyes. "Ignore our little ray of sunshine over there. Benjy damaged his leg a while ago, and it's made Alastor a little irritable."

"It was a scorch mark – nothing more!" Benjy objected loudly, as everyone turned to stare at Mad-Eye's wooden leg.

"Marlene!" Mad-Eye growled.

"Verifying? Fine Alastor, if it'll put your mind at ease." Marlene made an apologetic grimace at Enid and Hermione. "I'm sorry about this," she muttered, waving her wand in small circles, which flashed blue as she traced them in the air. "Mad-Eye's bloody paranoid!"

"It's fine Marlene," Enid told her.

"I'm used to it!" Hermione grinned. "I'm glad to see Mad-Eye won't change."

"Oh God." Marlene groaned loudly. "You're joking?"

"I'm not." Hermione told her. "If anything he get's worse. But he's the best the Order has," she added fairly. "He's amazing, truth to be told – although I'm not privy to a lot of information."

"Remind me not to stick around then." Marlene muttered. "It's them Mad-Eye. You were just being paranoid, as always!"

Hermione recalled something Mad-Eye had told her – Marlene had died before the end of the war. He'd told her the fate of many old Order members. Hermione pinched herself, sternly reminding herself that she wasn't to interfere.

"Merlin's holy toe-socks!" Benjy spluttered. "This coffee tastes like sweetened mud!"

Marlene stiffened angrily. "If you don't like it, make your own!"

"I will do!" Benjy told her. "This tastes like you scooped up your dog's poo and put it in the cup!"

Hermione wrestled with herself, but a small smile escaped her. "It seems to be getting steadily worse Benjy."

"It does with every taste Hermione!" Benjy sighed. "You're a brilliant witch Marlene, but cooking is not your forte!"

Sturgis cleared his throat. "Can I remind you what Enid is here for?"

Enid shook herself. "Yes. Thank you Sturgis." She passed the report to Sturgis. "The report on possibilities at the Ministry. Are you coming with us Benjy?" She asked the fair-headed Auror.

"May as well," Benjy shrugged his coat on, standing. "You don't need me for anything do you?"

"Nothing urgent." Mad-Eye told him. "Enid and Hermione would need protection anyway."

As they walked into the kitchen, Hermione commented to Enid, "It all seems very laid back." She said, slightly disapproving.

"It's not always like that!" Benjy interrupted. "You haven't seen it on the busy nights." He thrust his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway." Enid said hurriedly. "We're going to Diagon Alley, to get school things for Hermione – you won't find it _that _interesting Benjy."

"I don't know." Benjy informed her. "There's some pretty good looking witches in Diagon Alley-"

"Is that all you think about?" Hermione asked him, disgust and amusement vying for place in her voice.

"Pretty much." Benjy told her, grabbing a handful of floo powder. "I'll go first – _Diagon Alley!"_

* * *

Hermione rolled out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, coughing soot. Enid and Benjy hauled her to her feet. 

"Come on Hermione!" Benjy said as he picked her up. "Your landings need some work!"

"I landed badly too." Enid whispered to her consolingly.

Hermione looked at her sceptically. "Really?"

Benjy interrupted their conversation to drag them out into the back of the Leaky Cauldron, to the brick wall. Tapping it with his wand, they watched as the archway unfolded.

"So. Where to first?"

* * *

Back at the Order, a coughing young man, badly bruised and bleeding fell out of the fireplace, the sounds of bickering meeting his ears. Quick footsteps rang in on the tiles, and someone stood above. 

"My God Eddie – what's happened?"

"An attack…" He spluttered, pain permeating his entire body.

"Where?" An urgent voice joined the conversation. "Eddie where was the attack?"

The young man summoned the rest of his strength. "…Diagon Alley."

* * *

Remus craned his head, trying to see over the crowds, whilst finishing off his ice cream. James, Sirius and Peter were supposed to have met him by now. He shook his watch in frustration but the time didn't seem to go any faster. He'd already been waiting for half-an-hour, although knowing James and Sirius; they had probably been detained by James' parents (Sirius had been staying at James') for yet _another _prank. Peter had probably forgotten, Remus reflected. 

Sighing to himself, he snagged a chair, settling down for a long wait, whilst licking his ice cream – instead of chomping it down all in one go as James or Sirius might – still keeping an eye out for his friends. A small knot of Japanese witches passed in front of him, followed by a fair-headed wizard chatting animatedly to small witch and a bushy-haired girl, who was gesticulating wildly.

The group passed directly in front of Remus, who frowned as the girl's bushy hair obscured his view of the street.

"I am **not **spending forever in Flourish and Blotts!"

"You wanted to come Benjy. You've got to stay with us and if that means spending forever in Flourish and Blotts, so be it."

"How about a compromise?" The bushy-haired girl interjected.

"Why didn't I think of that?" The small witch muttered.

"Brilliant idea!" The fair-headed wizard exclaimed.

The whole street fell silent as a shrill scream pierced the air. A fiery column erupted in the distance, and more people screamed. The screams broke the spell that had been on the street, and suddenly the street was filled with shrieks and screeches, as people ran in a frantic chaos and the sound of sudden apparitions added to the din, blood spattering the streets where people had splinched in their panic.

Remus slammed his hands over his ears in pain, the noise agony to his heightened senses. He crawled towards Florean's Emporium, but the door slammed ahead of him, a terrified visage gazing back at him – a patron had sealed the door.

He huddled by the doorway, listening to the sounds of crashing buildings, the air becoming hazy with smoke. The screams of the dying, the burnt and the tortured filled the air, a horrific symphony, which Remus was unable to prevent himself hearing. Remus found himself hoping, praying that his friends wouldn't arrive – the irony striking him that just moments before he'd been impatiently awaiting their arrival. His head throbbed, as his ears began to slowly recover, and he heard someone pounding on a door. "Let me in, Let me in!" - it was the bushy-haired girl from before.

"It's no use," he told the girl. "They won't let you in."

The girl opened her mouth to reply, but paused as there was an audible mutter of "_Crucio!"_

Instead she dashed over to his side of the street and seized a fallen umbrella.

"What are you doing?" Remus asked, his voice urgent.

"Hiding us!" The girl replied, crouching next to Remus, placing the umbrella in front of them. "At least that way they'll be less likely to see us."

"It would barely cover one of us!" Remus pointed out.

The girl frowned. "We're still less likely to be seen. _Engorgio!" _She waved her wand at the umbrella, which quickly expanded.

Both Remus and the girl hunkered down behind the umbrella – breathlessly, in the almost silent street. Watching. Waiting. A pair of Death Eaters sprinted up the street; the shorter of the two firing a complex spell backwards, a translucent shield erupting out of their wand.

"Get down!" the girl hissed, and Remus pulled himself as far as he could under the umbrella as he could.

"D'you think we've lost 'em?" Asked the taller of the two.

"Incompetent idiot." The smaller, evidently female Death Eater snarled. "It's entirely your fault the Ministry was summoned. Our Lord will not be pleased!"

"Well, while we're 'ere, let's make as much trouble for the Ministry as we can!" The 'Incompetent' Death Eater said excitedly.

"The first intelligent idea you've ever spawned Carrow." The witch told him malevolently.

Remus peeked through a small hole in their make-shift 'hiding place'. The shorter figure turned towards the shop.

"CONFRINGO!" she shouted, a jet of purple light striking the upper storey of Flourish and Blotts, part of which imploded, the rest set alight as the Death Eater cast "_Incendio!"_

The girl beside him gave a gasp of horror, and Remus slammed his hand over her mouth – but it was too late. The Death Eater's spun round.

"Oo's there?" The lanky Death Eater called.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" The witch called, wand outstretched. "REDUCTO!"

The spell missed their hiding place but struck the wall above, reducing it to dust. The girl beside him jumped reflexively.

"So there you are!" The wizard leered. "We thought we'd 'ave to look for you!"

The girl stood stock still, like a rabbit in the headlights. As the witch raised her wand to curse the girl, Remus threw himself forward, knocking the girl over, out of the way. A jet of green light shot over their heads, rebounded and joined the inferno that had been Flourish and Blotts.

"Two of you…this should be some excellent sport." The Death Eater leered, advancing upon the two of them where they lay on the ground...

* * *

**A/N: My original intent (and chapter), was for it to be far longer than this - however, with that line, I just couldn't continue it in this chapter - the cliffhanger felt appropriate! Please read and review - your feedback is honestly appreciated and read**

**NEXT CHAPTER: 1996 Order/Harry, End of the Skirmish with the Death Eaters and the rest of the Marauders**


	4. The Penny Drops

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter associated characters/events/items etc. belong to the writer J.K.Rowling, Warner Brothers and Scholastic books. I doubt she feels up to sharing!**

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story so far and/or added me to their alerts or favourites – I can't stress how much this means to me or thank you enough. **

**To my amazing reviewers, who are simply the nicest, most inspiring people, thank you so much! You're encouragement keeps me writing, and I couldn't possibly do it without you! So thanks go to (and I'll try to shorten my rambles in future!):**

**Margarite Isabelle, MoonNightLover,Voldie's Vampire Mistress, ladyofthelight101 (this chapter is quite a bit longer!), Aly Martin!**

**I'll cease my rambling and get on with the chapter**

* * *

Remus rolled off the girl and pulled himself upright, yanking the girl up as well. The girl was trembling slightly, but she held herself together, wand held at the ready. 

"Stick close." Remus whispered almost imperceptibly.

"If we stay together we'll be more of a target. What do we do?" She asked, taking a step backwards as the Death Eater's advanced, wincing as her foot connected with shards of broken glass.

"Split up!"

Remus dove left, behind a table as the female Death Eater sent a volley of curses in his direction. His fear was overpowering, but Remus wrestled it down, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his hearing became heightened and the blood had rushed to his head. Green and red lights danced overhead, rubble falling and clouds of dust swamping his vision. The table he hunched behind provided him with some cover from the fire, but as soon as Remus thought to take a glance:

"REDUCTO!"

The destroying curse flew past him, reducing a nearby sign to dust – that could easily have been his head. Remus could have kicked himself for being so stupid, but was forced to think quickly as the witch's next curse was on target, striking the table behind which Remus squatted, and Remus knew he had to move. A mixture of dust and smoke made the air thick, difficult to see or breathe in. Remus tried to stifle his coughs, as he crawled away from the table, searching for some form of cover – anything that would shield him from the wrath of the Death Eater…

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Remus' wand flew from his grasp and he himself was thrown bodily into the air. He collided with the wall of the ice-cream parlour, his head smashed against the wall with an ominous crack. Seeing stars, Remus squinted into the darkness, helpless, watching as the Death Eater drew closer…

* * *

Hermione had rolled to the right as soon as the boy had told them to split up, panting heavily as she saw the lanky Death Eater spin in confusion. She wouldn't be able to hide behind the cover of the upturned cauldron for long, she knew. Where was the Order? How could they have not known about this? 

Hermione ducked further below her shelter as the one of the Death Eater's randomly fired curses flew over her head. Red, purple and green lights collided indiscriminately with the surrounding area, setting buildings alight and rubble flying dangerously. Loosened bricks were falling from the magical instruments shop and her stomach clenched as she heard the distressed hoots of burning owls. Tears pricked her eyes, but she ignored them, focussing entirely on the situation at hand, trying to block out her fear – _if she died now she would never see Ron or Harry again. _She tried to emulate Harry, to take advantage of any opportunity, although she was mired in fear and doubt.

A loose brick caught the Death Eater's shoulder. "Bloody 'ell." He swore, momentarily losing focus, and Hermione knew this was the opportunity she had been waiting for.

"STUPEFY!" she screamed. A jet of red light flew from her wand but it missed the Death Eater, flying beneath his arm. Panic set in as the Death Eater advanced, a vicious expression set on his face.

"I'm gunna enjoy killin' you."

* * *

The Death Eater advanced still closer on Remus, who felt as though someone had attempted to saw open his head and rip his brains out. Still, desperately he groped on the ground for his wand, sifting through the rubble and the dust with an increasing sense of urgency. 

Her lips curved into a nasty smile, as she approached him, wand raised, ready to curse him into oblivion.

A shot of red light flashed from nowhere, hitting the Death Eater from behind. She froze, as if she had been petrified rather than stunned. Remus froze as well, watching captivated as the Death Eater sank slowly, as if through water, to the floor.

Remus was dumbstruck – completely dumbstruck – how had that happened? He marvelled at his good fortune, before remembering the girl – had she survived?

"Hello?" He called out to the hazy air. "Hello?"

* * *

Hermione took a quavering footstep backwards away from the Death Eater, armed with her wand, shaking. Rubble fell through the air, in thick layers of dust, falling dangerously through the air. 

The Death Eater smirked, approaching swiftly, leering at her. He raised his wand, ready to strike, and Hermione swallowed heavily, raising her own wand in return, mindful of her small duelling experience – she hadn't regretted it greatly until that moment.

"CRU-"

"PRO-"

"STUPEFY!"

The Death Eater crumpled to the floor like a lead balloon. Hermione spun round rapidly, straining to see through the blanketing smog, to see her rescuer. Marlene and Mad-Eye stood behind her, Marlene's wand arm held straight, a fierce anger on her face. The telltale 'pops' of apparitions indicated they were being joined, and Marlene grabbed Hermione by the forearm, dragging her back towards her and Moody, wand held at the ready. The expression on Marlene's face almost scared Hermione – she'd never seen Marlene so enraged before.

Marlene's arm slumped back down. "Oh. It's just you."

Sturgis, Emmeline Vance and Edgar Bones had joined their party. "Well we couldn't let you have _all _the fun." Eddie told her. "You sound almost disappointed – expecting company?"

Sturgis nudged Eddie. "Shut up."

"Stop yapping and help! Sturgis -" Moody told them, and nodded Sturgis over to Hermione after whispering something incomprehensibly, before tearing off down the street.

"Is there anyone else around here?" Sturgis asked Hermione, as the others began to sprint towards the source of the bangs and screams.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "There was a boy. About my age – and a female Death Eater. I don't know what happened." She made to dash off, but Sturgis grabbed her forearm.

"Caution." He instructed her. "We'll look for them while we secure this area – that Death Eater may still be around."

Hermione, wand withdrawn, all-too-aware of the flashes of light and screams in the distance, picked her way through the rubble, walked forward cautiously. The devastation became more apparent as she explored the area; Sturgis close beside her, after binding the lanky Death Eater tightly. Small fires smouldered amidst the destruction, rubble strewn across the ground and the chimney of Eylops Owl Emporium wobbled precariously. She soon reached the overturned umbrellas and tables that now marked Florean Fortescue's.

"Hello?" Someone called. "Who's there?"

* * *

Remus heard footsteps – fleet, light footsteps. He prayed it was help – if it was a Death Eater he stood no chance – not in this condition. Abruptly the footsteps halted, and someone sucked in a sharp breath. Remus looked up blearily, to have his vision clouded by a familiar mass of bushy hair. 

"Merlin – what happened?" The girl asked. "Never mind." She instructed him.

"Who are you again?" He asked dazedly, his head throbbing, making it difficult for him to think straight.

"Hermione Granger." She informed him, placing a cool hand against his forehead.

"Remus Lupin."

The girl – Hermione – fell backwards, a look of horror and shock ingrained on to her face, and Remus feared the worst. She couldn't possibly know? James, Sirius and Peter would never tell, surely not. How could she know? Panic rippled in his mind, although he tried to school his features into calm. Or maybe it was merely a figment of Remus' imagination, as it vanished after a second. One thought swam to the forefront of his mind – _did she know?_

"Slipped." Hermione smiled at him sheepishly, and inwardly Remus heaved a sigh of relief. "Sturgis!" She called.

"Yeah?" 'Sturgis' called back distractedly. "Give me a minute!"

"Now Sturgis!" Hermione snapped. "He's injured!"

"Coming!" Someone trampled over, feet ploughing through the detritus.

"Merlin!" A blonde-headed wizard cursed. "What happened?"

"There was an attack," Remus paused to try and order his thoughts.

"Episkey." The kind looking older man waved his wand at him, and immediately the fog from his head began to lift, although the stickiness on the back of his head remained. "Carry on."

Remus nodded. "People were…it was madness...I couldn't get out…two Death Eaters came up this way, and one of them fired this spell backwards. It was like a shield…we fought them…the Death Eater I was fighting was knocked out by accident."

Sturgis looked troubled. "Where was this Death Eater, did you say?"

Remus frowned. "Somewhere over there." He waved his hand in the general direction of the Death Eater's prone body.

Sturgis jumped to his feet, face disturbed. "If that Death Eater was there…then where are they now?"

A jet of green light volleyed towards them. Sturgis ducked it narrowly and spun round. The curse hit what remained of the wall above Hermione and Remus. Rubble and dust poured down on top of them, and Hermione gripped Remus' forearm tightly.

"Take cover." Sturgis hissed at them from the corner of his mouth tightly.

Remus propelled Hermione sideways, dragging her by the arm, which she gripped him tightly with. Hermione's eyes bugged, her face whey and she stared at Sturgis, terrified.

"Come on!" Remus tugged her arm.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The shot of green missed them by inches.

"MOVE!" Remus urged Hermione desperately, yanking her arm with a renewed sense of urgency. Hermione shook the dumbstruck look from her face and began to crawl quickly, aiming for the nearest alleyway, and cover.

Sturgis was locked in a fierce duel with the Death Eater – her mask had been lost in the fight, and her face was a twisted mixture of madness and ferocity. Both her wand and Sturgis' moved in a complex dance, bolts of light rocketing around the alley. Rubble poured into the street and buildings swayed dangerously. Remus covered his head with one arm, encouraging Hermione to do the same. They crawled ever faster, desperate to reach the cover of the alley.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Sturgis' wand flew from his grasp, but he didn't stop to watch its arch. He kept his focus entirely on the witch, who threw spells at him with increasing frustration, as Sturgis seemed to evade each of them.

"Quick – look!" Someone shouted in the distance, Remus could hear people sprinting up towards them. Remus kept on crawling, praying that these were allies. The Death Eater cursed audibly.

"Beginner's luck Podmore." She sneered.

"All I need for now." Sturgis retorted, swiftly dodging a bolt and grinning broadly. A figure in black, moving faster than the others, sped up, firing a hex that flew past the witch. The witch scoffed derisively at the wizard, sneering elegantly, before disapparating with a resounding 'pop'.

"Shit!" Sturgis swore, kicking a brick. Remus slumped in relief, feeling Hermione relax beside him.

* * *

Hermione had dragged Remus over to Sturgis grudgingly. Her head told her that she should be staying as far away from Remus as possible, whilst her conscience informed her that she _had _to look after him, whilst he was on his own. _That _battle had been swiftly won by Hermione's conscience and her own mothering nature. Sturgis had insisted Remus stayed with them, at least until someone he knew came to collect him. 

The destruction the Death Eaters had wreaked was much in evidence. Rubble and blood spattered the streets, and, Hermione had been much distressed to see, the feathers of owls in Eylops Owl Emporium. She'd nearly thrown up when she'd seen the corpses of the victims, although her stomach still churned and the nausea was ever present. Remus seemed to be bearing up all right, although his pale face seemed testimony that he too was repulsed by the destruction.

The Death Eater Hermione had been duelling was dead, killed by one of his own companion's spells. The Death Eater, whom Sturgis had identified as Bellatrix Black had disappeared, and without any evidence, she couldn't be brought to justice. Needless to say this was incredibly frustrating for all of them.

The three of them walked the streets of Diagon Alley, taking in the destruction and in Hermione and Sturgis' case, searching for other members of the Order. Various Aurors wandered by, acknowledging Sturgis with a nod of the head or a business-like, brisk greeting. Occasionally Sturgis would point out an auror in particular to them.

"That's Kelly." He pointed to a witch, a jet of water issuing from the end of her wand, putting out the blaze in Gambol and Japes. "Amazing auror."

Remus nodded absent-mindedly, his mind elsewhere.

Kelly turned briefly, waved abruptly at Sturgis, who waved back, before Kelly turned back towards the blazing building.

Hermione nibbled her lip, arms folded across her chest. Where were Benjy and Enid? She hadn't seen them since before the fight. The likelihood of them being injured wasn't particularly high but…Hermione didn't want to explore that avenue of thought. They couldn't be dead.

"Sir, I appreciate that your task force must be incredibly busy, but this is urgent!"

Hermione spun round rapidly. A mousy haired, petite witch stood in politely arguing with a burly wizard, whose looks called to mind those of a caveman.

"Enid!" Hermione gasped. The mousy-haired witch jerked her head round.

"Hermione! Oh thank God!" Enid sprinted across to them, sweeping Hermione up into a tight hug. "I thought something terrible had happened!"

"If getting caught up in a Death Eater attack doesn't qualify, I'm not sure what does!" Hermione replied, after Enid had released her. Enid glanced, shocked, at Sturgis.

"What?" Enid squawked, glaring at Sturgis. "What happened?"

"Before accusations start flying, why weren't you and Benjy there?" Sturgis replied, his tone bordering on angry.

Enid sighed, and ran a hand tiredly through her hair before replying. "I was holding on to someone in the scrum before they apparated – they took me with them – it took me a while to get back – there were lots of anti-apparition charms up, so I had to apparate to home and floo in. By the time I got here, it was complete chaos."

Sturgis nodded. "Hermione and Remus will have to explain to you their part of the story."

"Remus?" Enid asked craning her head around. Remus made a small waving motion.

"Over here."

"Oh." Enid flushed, embarrassed. "So what happened?"

"There was…" Remus tried to phrase it delicately. "An attack…by two Death Eaters. One of them's dead and the other…escaped… after attacking us again."

Enid gaped and almost walked into a lamppost. "What!"

Hermione and Remus were forced to go over their story in more detail, with Enid gasping in appropriate places, and at times frowning.

"So who's looking after you Remus?" She asked, when they were finished, having completed their circuit of Diagon Alley.

"I was _supposed _to be meeting my friends at Fortescue's but with the attack, I don't know whether they made it." Remus told Enid, swallowing heavily.

Enid frowned. "Could we floo them?"

"From where?" Remus asked helplessly, gesturing around the alley, the destruction, although less marked than before, still enough to draw the eye's gaze on an almost constant basis.

"The Leaky Cauldron's survived." Enid informed him. "I need to floo Mungo's anyway."

Hermione leapt on the hint. "Why?" she asked suspiciously. "Who's been injured?"

Enid appeared to be considering her reply, gauging what Hermione's reaction might be. At length she sighed. "Benjy's been injured – not too badly – but I'd like to see how he is. That's all!"

"How could you not-" Hermione began, in a shrieking tone, but Remus cut her off swiftly.

"That would be great thanks."

Hermione remained silent for the journey to the Leaky Cauldron, despite some gentle teasing from the boys and Enid's cajoling, whether in indignation, anger or worry they couldn't tell.

* * *

"JAMES? SIRIUS?" Mrs Potter called up the stairs. "It's Remus!" 

The Potter household had been sitting in tense silence, ever since the Ministry had issued the warning of the attack on Diagon Alley. Sirius had sworn loudly and kicked the coal bucket over, continuing to destroy the living room until Mrs Potter had threatened to hex him silent for the rest of the summer holidays unless he refrained from swearing and breaking belongings. James had retreated into a shell-shocked silence, sitting staring into the fire for a long time, as though doing so would cause Remus to appear in it. Later on, Mr Potter had caught both the boys attempting to floo into Diagon Alley and was forced to confiscate the floo powder. Thus when Remus' head finally appeared in the fireplace, there was great excitement.

Both the boys sprinted down the stairs, two steps at a time, faster than Mrs Potter had ever believed possible, dashing past Mr Potter at high speed.

"Sorry Dad!" James' voice floated back towards the kitchen. Mr Potter chuckled, before ambling into the living room.

"Merlin Moony!" Sirius shouted upon reaching the living room. "You gave us a scare!"

"Moony! What happened?" James asked at the same time, their voices blending into one.

Remus rolled his eyes patiently, in a gesture so familiar that both Sirius and James had to laugh.

"So Moony, what happened?" James asked again, curiosity rising. "We heard about the attack."

"We tried to floo in, but Harold caught us!" Sirius chipped in.

"Not a lot." Remus attempted to tone down his escapades. "There was a bit of a skirmish-"

"A fight?" Sirius sat bolt upright. "Don't leave us in the dark Moony!"

Remus sighed, exasperated. "I had a _small _run-in with a Death Eater or two."

James' jaw dropped, making him look like a particularly stupid, stunned goldfish.

"It's the return of the stunned goldfish!" Sirius quipped. "Prongs mate – anyone in there?"

"Sirius – is there ever anyone in there?" Remus asked seriously.

"He hasn't realised we've insulted him yet." Sirius mock-whispered. "Waiting for the penny to drop…waiting…waiting – OW!" He clutched his arm where James had hit. "Violence is a sign of weakness Jamie!"

"I'd say the penny dropped!" Remus laughed at his two friends.

"Hey!" James shook his head. "Thank you Sirius." He said, glaring at his friend. "Come on Remus, what happened?"

"It was nothing really…in all the chaos, this girl and me, we were stuck in the street and we met two Death Eaters…who took an immediate disliking to us for some reason and attacked us."

"Was she good looking?" Sirius asked. Both Remus and James stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"Typical!" James told him. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"And?" Sirius gestured for him to continue impatiently. "What happened next?"

"Both Death Eaters were knocked out, except one was later killed by accident and the other escaped."

"Merlin Moony – make the story exciting why don't you?" Sirius slumped back.

"Nobody's hurt right?" James asked concernedly, whilst Sirius snorted.

Remus turned a peculiar shade of grey. "I wouldn't say that." He whispered.

"Moony." Sirius inspected Remus closely, showing compassion that was rarely seen by the rest of the world. "How many dead?"

"Too many to count." Remus replied, a tremor in his voice.

Sirius and James exchanged horror-struck glances. "Merlin's holy..." Was all James could manage.

"At least you didn't join them." Sirius mumbled at Remus.

The boys sat in silence. Previously, the war hadn't affected them –they'd read about it of course, known vague acquaintances whose relatives had been tortured or killed, but it had never really happened to anyone they _knew. _They'd always been able to shrug off the war, to toss away the offending article and begin planning their next prank. Now the war had come to their doorsteps – would they still be able to carry on as before?

"So Moony." Sirius began. "About that girl…"

* * *

In the dim light of the smallest bedroom – lit solely by a flickering bedside lamp - in a terraced house in a small nook of Surrey, a raven-haired boy poured over a photo. Tears fell silently from his face, dashed occasionally by an angry hand. The people in the photo waved on obliviously. 

Harry Potter stared blankly once more at the original Order of the Phoenix. Happy faces shone back at him – unaware of their fate. Marlene McKinnon – butchered along with the rest of her family, Benjy Fenwick, whom bits were only ever found of, Dorcas Meadowes – murdered personally by Voldemort. The list was ongoing, the fate of all those who had ever believed in a better world. A world without Voldemort. A world his parents had sacrificed themselves for – and now Sirius had joined their ranks. The people in the photo jostled each other in a friendly fashion and Harry found himself pouring over the details of each member, trying to remember each unsung hero's story. His heart clenched as his parents swept into view, a plump young man wearing a nervous smile on one side of his parents, Sirius looking happy and healthy to the left…

An unfamiliar face presented itself above his parents; arms linked with Benjy Fenwick's, head tossed back in laughter. Harry started. In all the hours he had ever poured over this photo, he had never seen this woman before, fringe swamping her features; her cheerful visage was only slightly marred by a scar that stretched from her cheekbone to chin. Harry stared at the woman, sadness overwhelmed by confusion. Who was this woman? More importantly, how on earth had he not seen her before? Mad-Eye had never mentioned her before…

"Turn that damn light off boy!" Uncle Vernon slammed Harry's door shut. Harry swore – both at his Uncle and his light, which had flickered once before the bulb had blown as the door slammed. Dropping the photo onto the rubbish-strewn floor, Harry clambered into bed, mentally preparing himself for another night of nightmares, confusion and sorrow.

**

* * *

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**Reviews are adored – love it or hate it, I'd love to know what people think! Constructive criticism is more than welcome. However, thank you for reading this anyway!**


	5. The Impact of Arguements

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and associations belong to the wonderful J.K.Rowling and this story is written solely for pleasure and I make no profit from it. This disclaimer (and the others) count for the entire story (as I've tired of rewriting my disclaimers each time!)**

**A/N: A stroke of inspiration hit me, and thus this chapter emerged! As usual, my thanks go out to those who have read my fic and of course my thanks go out to my incredible reviewers:**

**Voldie's Vampire Mistress, Quacked Lurker, ladyofthelight101, MoonNightLover and Aly Martin! **

**This chapter is less action, and more an introduction to many more characters, so bear with me, and please let me know what you think of the new characters, as I'm a little uncertain of how well I've portrayed them!**

* * *

Hermione whisked the eggs with more ferocity than was probably strictly necessary when making scrambled eggs. Enid drained her the dregs of her coffee, flicking through her copy of the Daily Prophet. 

"What a joke." She murmured, throwing it onto the floor.

"Why?" Hermione asked, curious despite her annoyance. Today was September 1st, the return to Hogwarts for many young wizards and witches – and, unfortunately to Hermione's mind, she was no exception – _and_ as Enid had been unable to get time off, Hermione was to be taken to King's Cross by the Lupins as a favour. Enid fished the newspaper from the floor and passed it to her.

"Order of the Phoenix – Help or Hindrance?" Hermione read aloud. Her anger grew. "Why do they print this trash? Everyone knows that what happened!"

"Read on." Enid drummed her fingers on the table, lips pursed.

Hermione scanned the paper. "Traitors in the Order leaking information? What kind of idiot is going to buy that?" She left the jug of eggs on the draining board, and sank into a seat clutching the paper with trembling hands. Both women sat in silence as she scanned through the various articles. Finally, Hermione had seen enough – she closed the newspaper in disgust. "What a pathetic attempt to discredit the Order." She spat. "But why would they want to do that? We're helping them!"

Enid sighed. "I don't know."

"In my time," Hermione began, loath to speak, but her fury forced the words from her throat. "The same thing's happened, because the Ministry views the Order as a threat – you don't suppose?"

"That the same thing could be happening now?" Enid cringed. "It wouldn't surprise me – the Ministry's as corrupt as an illegal dragon dealer."

Hermione clenched her fists. "It's disgusting – they abuse the right's of any creature that isn't entirely _human_ and then protect wizarding murderers!"

Enid stood, crumpling the paper. "Ignore it Hermione." She advised. "It's pure poison."

"It's a dagger in the back!" Hermione glared. "We help them and then they try to destroy us!"

"Try not to tear the ears off the Lupins when they arrive." Enid told her. "I've got to get to work, so I'll see you later." She finished, giving Hermione a quick hug, and snatched up the remains of her toast, which she promptly ate.

"I can't make any guarantees." Hermione told her, as she made her way to the fireplace, spotless due to Enid's perfectionist nature - if someone happened to come across it, there would be no clue of it's frequent usage.

"I know." Enid mumbled between bites. "That's why I said _try_ to. _Ministry of Magic._" She cried hurling the green powder into the fireplace and vanishing in a vortex of emerald.

Hermione returned to the kitchen, feeling more bitter than ever. It seemed, even here, out of her time, the Ministry still couldn't be counted on. She returned to the eggs, whisking them with a vengeance, taking out all her fury, focussing it on that one movement. All of her life, her trust had been placed in authority figures; the government, the Professors, Dumbledore – and this had been torn from her. The Ministry was corrupt. Professor Snape possessed bone-deep biases, and used his influence to suit them. Hermione no longer knew whom to turn to. _Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely _she reminded herself. She tipped the frothy mixture into a pan, flicked the cooker's switch and slumped into a seat, head resting in her hands.

Inside, Hermione was in turmoil, wrestling with conflicting thoughts and feelings. She desperately wanted something familiar to cling to, a piece of her past life, something of her old identity; yet simultaneously, she knew that cutting the ties would be the simplest, most sensible action she could take – if only she could persuade herself of that. For once in Hermione's life, the right choice wasn't necessarily the easiest one. Remus. Remus, whom with she shared a wizard's debt, which extended both ways – not an easy debt to avoid, although whether this was to be magically or morally, was yet to be revealed. He formed a link with her old life that, for safeties sake, should be severed. Who knew the consequences of her interference – although, Hermione thought, it might be a little late for _that_. Her meeting with Remus in Diagon Alley would have set events in motion that would change the future forever – surely the best, the recommended course of action, would be to ensure that she never changed anything else, to guarantee that the future would remain the same would to make certain she never had any contact with anyone in the past that she was acquainted with in the future?

Hermione sighed heavily. Though she prayed the future was unchanged, she knew this was impossible – simply by being in the past, she would have changed the future irrevocably. From her first breath in 1976, the future she had known had vanished, as though it had never been. At least, she amended, that was what _most _theories said. Some said time was self-correcting, in which case she was _meant _to be here, or that one day she might be snapped back to the future, by some enigmatic machination. However the most viable theory –

Hermione jumped from her seat to rescue her scrambled eggs – done perfectly, although if she hadn't caught them, they might have burnt. Eating the peppered scrambled eggs, she continued to muse on the future. Enid had long confiscated her notes, but Hermione had stolen them back the night before, whilst Enid had been preoccupied with finding Hermione's potion ingredients, she remembered guiltily. Hermione burned with guilt – but not enough guilt to return them. Much as she liked Enid, Benjy and the rest of the Order, she couldn't _stay _in the past. It wasn't her place – she had to find a way back to the future – and Hermione felt certain that Hogwarts might be the place to do it. Surely the library would contain some long forgotten book on the subject – she just knew it would!

The doorbell interrupted her thoughts, and Hermione stood slowly to get it, weaving her way around her mass of luggage. Apprehension filled her, but also excitement – she liked Remus, who didn't? She was seeing a piece of her life once more – anyone would be excited. Her head sternly reminded her not to get too attached to anyone – she wasn't staying. Taking a quick breath, Hermione wrenched the front door open.

* * *

Remus fidgeted, hopping from one foot to another in anticipation. Today he returned to Hogwarts, and his friends – needless to say, Remus couldn't wait. 

"Mum, Dad! Hurry up!" he called up the stairs – at this rate they would _miss _the Hogwarts express!

"There's no rush Remus!" His mother told him, descending the staircase, at a rate which Remus found most infuriating. "We've got plenty of time – right Charlie?" she said, looking up at her husband, who stood at the top of the stairs, a thoughtful cast to his face.

"We've got plenty of time Remus, it's only-" Charlie broke off to glance at his wrist, with a smile at his impatient teenaged son. "Where's my watch? Remus, have you seen my watch?"

His wife rolled her eyes at her husband's forgetfulness. "Honestly Charlie! It's wherever you last had it!"

"Illuminating, dearest."

"Dad!" Remus tried his best to chivvy his parents along. "Is now really the time?"

"It was my seventeenth birthday present from your grandparents – it's rather important." Was his father's muffled reply and the rustling noises indicated his father was turning out the contents of the drawers.

"_Accio watch!"_ His mother's patience had expired. A simple gold watch, carved with runes, zoomed from the kitchen to her hands. "Charlie, it's here – you left it in the kitchen – as always!"

His father sighed gratefully. "Whatever would I do without you?" he asked, kissing his wife on the cheek, whilst winking at Remus. Remus rolled his eyes at his father's antics.

"If you expect me to scream, point and say 'Urgh, Mummy and Daddy are kissing' you're going to be waiting a while Dad." Remus informed him wryly. "I haven't done that since I was about four."

"Seven if I remember rightly!" His father chuckled, whilst his mother swatted his father, checking the time.

"It's half-nine Charlie – we probably should get going if we're going to pick up Hermione, and be on time for the train." His mother sighed, flicking her wand to turn off the lights.

Remus seized his luggage. "Let's get going then!"

"Calm down Remus!" His mother laughed, waving her wand to levitate the trunk. The small family of three made their way to the front door. "I'll go first with the luggage, shall I?" his mother asked.

"I do believe your mother's casting aspersions on my apparating ability!" His father nodded. "That would probably be a good idea."

Remus smiled in remembrance. According to his mother his father had failed his apparation test two times. The first time he hadn't failed too badly – he'd splinched and left behind a couple of fingernails, but the second time, he had missed his target by twelve miles and had landed, feet firmly planted, in a cowpat. Remus only prayed he'd inherited his mother's apparating ability.

"See you in a minute!" His mother winked out of sight with a slight 'pop'. Remus swallowed – he hated apparating.

"Right." His father turned to face him. "Ready to go Remus?" He offered his arm and Remus linked with his father's, uttering a soundless prayer to whatever deity existed.

"As I'll ever be."

The two of them winked out of existence.

"I always forget how much I hate apparating!" Remus spluttered. He felt like his innards had been crushed, squashed and flattened in every possible manner and then re-inflated.

His father shushed him. "Muggles Remus, remember."

They had apparated very precisely on to Enid and Hermione's front porch, which although charmed to repel muggles and hide it from their eyes, was most probably _not_ soundproof. Charlie stepped forward, pressing the doorbell twice.

* * *

Yanking the door open revealed the Lupins. Hermione plastered a welcoming smile on her face. 

"Hi," she greeted them. "Thanks for agreeing to pick me up Mr and Mrs Lupin." She ushered them into the apartment uncomfortably, keenly aware of the dirty pan and plates in the sink (she hadn't had time to wash and put them away) and the general pokiness of the flat.

"It's not a problem Hermione," Remus' mother told her, attempting to put the obviously awkward Hermione at ease.

"Have you got everything you need?" Remus' father asked her, glancing over at her luggage.

"Dad!" Remus interjected awkwardly. "She doesn't need your fussing!"

Hermione laughed, nervousness forgotten momentarily. "You remind me of someone I know!" she smiled.

"Who might that be?" Remus' father asked, hoping to draw her out of her shell.

"One of my best friends, Ron he…" her voice died away, but Hermione swiftly recovered. "His discussions with his parents were often like this."

The Lupins were silent for a moment before Charlie jostled Remus. "See Remus, we're not the only ones!"

Remus flushed as the rest of them laughed, but eventually he too, saw the funny side of things and the atmosphere lightened considerably after that.

They departed from the apartment, talking loudly (and receiving some glares from passers-by for their antisocial tones) about everything and anything, including several anecdotes from Remus' childhood, which evidently embarrassed him, causing Remus to be rather red in the face for a large portion of the journey.

Bumping her suitcase up the stairs exiting the tube - resolutely igoring the graffiti - Hermione found that she was actually enjoying herself – the journey was less the hellish torment she had expected and more an enjoyable mixture of light banter and laughter. Charlie's trouble with the ticket machine had cracked both Olivia and Hermione up (although Remus had found the incident highly embarrassing). They were nearing the exit to King's Cross, and instead of her expected apprehension, Hermione instead felt rather relaxed.

* * *

Remus was filled with relief when the barrier that led to Platform 9 ¾ appeared. He had been thoroughly embarrassed by his parents' antics and intended to tell them so in not-so-subtle words, since his glares appeared to have had no effect whatsoever. The relating of his childhood incidents might have provided great amusement for _them_ but for Remus it had been thoroughly embarrassing. Although, he mused, those were probably the best memories of Remus' childhood. Memories of his childhood seemed littered with pain, tears and sorrow – not of all of them were of course, he reprimanded himself. Just the majority, his cynical side answered. 

Thus Remus fled through the barrier, feeling more than a little relieved, keen to put some distance between himself and Hermione. It was unfair, he knew, to be so cruel to her, particularly since he had enjoyed her company previously. Currently, however, Remus couldn't wait to get away from her. The second he was through; he fled through the crowd, boarded the Hogwarts Express and began his hunt for his friends.

Remus wandered up and down the corridors of the Hogwarts Express, peering into the various cabins in search of his friends. Pupils chattered away in their cabins, discussing their summer holidays, complaining about relatives or gossiping about their latest crush – Sirius' name had been mentioned a disproportionate number of times, Remus noted. After an age of lugging his baggage up and down what felt like the entire train, Remus came across the carriage where Peter lurked. The blonde boy sat alone in the carriage, staring gloomily out of the window. Remus pulled open the door with difficulty.

"Hey Pete!" He greeted Peter with false cheer, and felt a slight stab of guilt for doing so, when Peter replied enthusiastically.

"Hi Remus! Did you have a good summer? I had a really good summer-"

"Just a minute Wormie," Remus interrupted him, dragging his bag into the compartment. He hoisted his bag onto the rack, slotting it in carefully - a difficult task as the racks never seemed to be large enough - assisted by Peter. "Thanks." He muttered, before clearing his voice. "Listen Pete, I've just got to go and say good-bye to my parents. So do you want to-"

"I'll wait here thanks." Peter told him. "Sirius and James won't know where we are, if no-one's there to greet them!"

Remus frequently felt sorry for Peter – Sirius and James often treated him like an inferior, and Remus, although he knew it was wrong, was disinclined to prevent them – if he angered his friends, who would have him, once they knew what he was? A small voice whispered in his head of a few people such as Caradoc Dearborn, Lily Evans or even Hermione, but he dismissed those thoughts – who would want to be associated with a werewolf? He was merely lucky that he had such good friends – he shouldn't endanger that.

Sliding out of the compartment, he jumped from the nearest side-door, back down into the station – it was nearly eleven; he would have to hurry. Twisting and sliding, he managed to make his way through the packed station, ducking under an absent minded witch's cloud of sparks, that had issued as she waved goodbye to her son, towards the corner, where he knew his parents would be waiting – it was something of a tradition for them.

"Mum, Dad!" He panted, as he reached them. "Thanks for waiting!"

His parents did not appear impressed with his antics, his father's arms folded in a gesture of annoyance, his mother's lips pursed in disapproval. If Remus had been a dog, his ears would have been tucked back, tail between legs and puppy dog eyes would have come out, in a play for sympathy – in this case Remus only managed the puppy dog eyes. His parents' disapproving stares did not lessen.

"What were you doing Remus?" His mother began, her voice low and angry. "You just ran off and abandoned Hermione – I thought you would at least look after her! Who else here does she know?"

Remus turned to his father, hoping, at least for his father's usual face pulling, and sly winks when his mother was angry – he received none. "You've disappointed me Remus." His father said, speaking the words Remus had always feared hearing from his father, whom he sought approval and admiration from. "That was downright cruel."

"I…" Remus struggled to keep a hold on his emotions. "You just…you embarrassed me so much!"

"We embarrassed you?" his mother's tone was hurt, and slightly sceptical. "How?"

"You kept telling Hermione all those embarrassing stories, everything that I've ever tried to forget, you raked over – I was humiliated!" Remus ranted, although keeping his tone to a whisper, to avoid attention.

"We weren't trying to…" his mother looked upset, and Remus was instantly pricked with guilt, but ignored it in his building rage.

"You ignored me the entire time, except to laugh at me!"

"Maybe you didn't notice how tense that girl was – we were trying to get her to relax! And then you just abandoned her like yesterday's rubbish."

Remus gasped, outraged, before remembering how awkward Hermione had been previously.

"I…I didn't realize." Remus stuttered, feeling stupid.

His father raised an eyebrow. "That much was obvious. I think you owe her an apology."

"I'll find her later and tell her." Remus promised hastily, glancing at the clock – it was nearly eleven. "Listen, I've got to go!"

His mother hugged him tightly. "Be good." She told him. "We're proud of you – no matter about your condition."

"I know." Remus whispered back, hugging her close.

His father swept him close. "Don't get caught." He told his son, and Remus grinned at his parents' conflicting advice.

"Don't worry – I won't." He informed his father.

"Write to us often – and we'll see you at Christmas." His mother told him.

A blaring horn informed Remus, that if he wasn't careful he would miss the train. Remus therefore sprinted back towards the train, waving over his shoulder, and disappeared into the smog.

* * *

As soon as they went through the barrier, Remus sprinted away. Hermione stood stock-still, hurt. Was her company so offensive? After exchanging good-byes with the Lupins, she made her way onto the train, her nerves returning with a vengeance. Clambering onto the train, Hermione swept her hair out of her eyes, glancing round nervously. Everyone else was in a pair or a group. A gang of chattering girls passed by gossiping and pointing at her. Hermione gave them a cold glare, and they hurried on. Hermione brought out her confident exterior, and self-consciousness returning, began to search the train for a compartment. 

The compartments had changed little in the twenty odd years Hermione had travelled, she thought as she peered nonchalantly into one compartment, jumping back swiftly as someone threw a dungbomb her way, already crossing that compartment off her list of prospectives. The only compartment's she found at first were full, or she was dismissed with a polite 'Sorry this seat's taken', so Hermione was close to tears by the time she found an empty compartment. Deciding that this would suffice, she slid into it, and shut the door after her, before anyone else could claim the compartment. With difficulty she hoisted her bag on to the bag rack, pushing it with all her strength, it's bulk difficult to fit into such a small gap. Finally the bag fell off colliding with the floor with a resounding crash.

"Would you like a hand?" Someone asked in an amused tone. Hermione spun round to see a girl leaning against the doorway, head brushing against the top of the doorframe. The girl, seeing Hermione's expression, snapped defensively. "Yes, I'm tall! _Do _stare at me – it's _really _appreciated! Plenty of people are tall! I was just offering to help you!"

Hermione raised her hands, in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't say anything." She retorted. "I just didn't realize anyone was there!"

"Oh." The girl slipped inside the compartment, next to Hermione, towering over her. "Sorry." She muttered. "I just get stared at a lot – it makes me a little defensive." She justified. "Now would you like a hand?"

Hermione smiled at the girl gratefully. "Please."

The girl heaved the bag upwards, with a mutter of, "Merlin!"

"It's a bit heavy, I know." Hermione said, slightly embarrassed.

"What have you got in here?" the girl asked, straining. "Rocks?"

"Just books," Hermione replied. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with liking to read!"

"I know." The girl smiled, surprising Hermione with her abrupt mood swings. She swung the bag into the bag rack, slotting it in with an ease that shocked Hermione. "When your best friend is a bookworm, you get used to it – although it can sometimes get a little annoying." She extended her hand to Hermione. "Dorcas Meadowes. Never beanpole or BFG."

"BFG?" Hermione asked, before she realized that this might not be a subject Dorcas wished to talk about. "The Big Friendly Giant?" she raised an eyebrow.

"No. Big fat girl – at least according to Black, Potter and the Slytherins – one of the only things they've ever agreed on." Dorcas informed her sourly. "Someone came up with it a couple of years ago, and I've had to put up with it ever since." An angry expression crossed her face, before melting away.

"Oh." Hermione's mouth widened to a small 'o'.

"An articulate reply." Dorcas grinned at her, shoving her bag on the other rack, before slumping onto the opposite seat. "Do you mind if I stay here?" she asked belatedly.

"I'm not averse to that." Hermione smiled. "As you can see this compartment is hugely popular."

"I can see that." Dorcas yawned, stretching. "So, no offence, but I don't recognize you – so I have to ask – who are you?"

"I'm Hermione."

* * *

Remus fell into the compartment as the train began to move, panting for breath. Sirius and James were already there, a girl clutching at Sirius' waist, completely ignored as he contemplated his next move in a game of chess with Peter. Peter, as usual, was winning – Peter was quite easily the best at chess and Sirius usually suffered a humiliating defeat. 

"Ahem." Remus cleared his throat.

"Moony!" James greeted him with a high five. "Where were you?"

"Just saying good-bye to my parents." Remus informed them, looking for somewhere to sit – unfortunately, there was none.

"Moony sit down!" James told him.

"I would if I could." Remus said dryly.

"Moony!" Sirius finally noticed Remus' presence. "Where were you?"

Remus rolled his eyes as James burst out laughing. "You know James _just _asked me that!"

Sirius looked offended. "You lie."

"He's not." Peter informed him, staring at the board, wearing a slight smirk. "I heard it."

"So you're siding with them." Sirius pouted, in what may have been intended to be appealing, but in fact, in Remus' opinion, made him look like an idiot, showing a side of himself rarely exposed to the rest of Hogwarts.

"Paddy that pout makes you look like your IQ."

"A wise, handsome man then!"

"A sulky toddler."

A racchous, vapid giggle interrupted the boy's debate of sorts. "I think he looks gorgeous, personally!"

Remus started - he had completely forgotten about Sirius latest 'girl'. By the looks on their faces, James and Peter were equally stunned.

"Thanks Elizabeth." Sirius sighed. "I'll be seeing you later." He winked at her as she stood, understanding the dismissal.

"So who was that?" Remus asked, settling down into the newly vacated seat, as the girl strode out, angry strides indicating her distaste.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit like Elizabeth?" James asked him.

"You mean like this?" Remus stretched out on the seat, and clutched Sirius around the waist. "I love you Sirius!"

"I love you too Remmie!" Sirius crooned, leaning down, as if he were about to kiss Remus. Remus jerked away rapidly. Too rapidly – he fell to the floor with a loud thump. "What's the matter Remus?" Sirius asked anxiously. "Don't you love me?"

"Not funny." Remus groaned as he pulled himself onto the seat once more. "So who was that?"

"Elizabeth Whelan." Was the reply. "Just some fifth year."

* * *

"I wonder what they'll come up with for that." Dorcas mused. 

"My parents named me for the character in 'A Winter's Tale." Hermione informed her. "But why 'Big Fat Girl' – you're not fat."

"Just another inarticulate insult." Dorcas sighed. "I'm not exactly skinny."

It was true – Hermione thought, Dorcas wasn't exactly _skinny _but Big _Fat _Girl was something of a misnomer.

"So, why are you coming to Hogwarts?" Dorcas asked, slightly tactlessly, but Hermione was relieved to have someone to talk to.

"I was educated by my parents at home before but-" her voice shook, lending it truth to her sentence. "They died. My new guardian decided to send me to Hogwarts. I've always wanted to go though – what's it like?"

"Dorcas? There you are!" A voice interrupted, relief evident.

"Lily!" Dorcas sprang to her feet, greeting Lily Evans enthusiastically – almost as if she were relieved to have some other company, Hermione thought, deciding that she let it slide. "This is Hermione." She gestured back. "She's new."

"I see you've met my beanpole." Lily grinned as Dorcas thumped her.

"Don't call me that!" Dorcas sounded less offended and more playful, Hermione mused, standing to greet Lily – there was little she could do to avoid talking to her now.

"I thought it was 'never beanpole'." Hermione commented.

"It is." Dorcas said, "Unfortunately, I've never managed to get Lily to understand that!"

"I'm Lily by the way." Lily told Hermione, smiling at her. "I'm a prefect, so if you ever need any help-"

"Don't go to her!" Dorcas interjected, causing Hermione to hover between laugher and disapproval of the disrespect Lily received.

A cackling laugher sounded from the doorway. "It's our wicked witch!" Dorcas squawked delightedly.

The girl at the door had soft features, graced by a smile, and Hermione instantly perceived a niceness about her. "Thank you Dorcas." She slid into the compartment dragging a bulky bag after her. "I'm Alice." She introduced herself to Hermione straight away, immediately endearing herself to her. For the third, and what Hermione knew wouldn't be the final time, she introduced herself.

"Hermione."

"Wow – that's an unusual name." Alice commented. "Dorcas will you-"

"Doing so now." Dorcas sighed impatiently, tossing Alice's bag up onto the rack. "It's a wonder you lot lived before me!"

"We didn't!" Lily pointed out. "You're older than us!"

Dorcas shunted the bag upwards, sarcasm creeping into her voice, still playful. "Of course – how could I forget!"

"If the BFG is finished babbling." A voice sneered at the door. "I'd like to talk to Lily."

"What are you doing here Snivelly?" Dorcas snarled, anger radiating from her every pore.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I do believe I just stated that. I know it's difficult for you to hear at such an altitude Meadowes, but really."

"What do you want _Snivellus_?" Lily emphasized the 'Snivellus' causing Snape's eyes to widen.

"I need to talk to you Lily." For the first time, Snape sounded pleading, and Hermione sucked in a breath sharply – she'd never heard Snape talk like this before.

"I told you last term _Snape._ You forwent my friendship the minute you uttered that _word_." Lily spat. "Please leave." She asked him coolly. "I have nothing more to say to you."

"But Lily – all that was last year. Please Lily." Snape sounded so sincerely sorry, pleading desperately, that Hermione felt some measure of pity for him begin to grow.

"Lily-"

"Just go Severus." Lily flicked her wand at him, causing Snape to be repulsed from the compartment. Snape almost opened the door again, but Dorcas sealed it with a swift "_Colloportus."_

Lily sighed, putting her head in her hands, voice trembling. "I didn't want to do that."

**

* * *

**

**If there's anything that you haven't understood so far, I suggest taking a look at Quacked Lurkers review – she's pinpointed a lot of the key points in the story!**

**Next Chapter: Marauders/Snape arguments, Lily and James interaction, the sorting and possibly a little of the future again (that's undecided though!).**

**And please feel free to review - it's greatly appreciated, and the advice will always be taken into consideration!**

**Also, I am aware the BFG was first published in 1982, meaning it wouldn't have been published by now. So here's my excuse: In the Harry Potter world Roald Dahl was a wizard, who published children's books, and it was published in the wizarding world before the muggle world, so many of the witches and wizards at Hogwarts would have heard of it, and (unfortunately for Dorcas) they christened her the BFG.**


	6. Friendships Anew

**A/N: This chapter was ready before now, but I was interrupted whilst posting it, so it had to wait until now! **

**Thanks go to the readers, and especially my reviewers (thanks for the advice by the way, pstibbons, it **_**has **_**been taken into consideration, and I've begun to set it up!) So, thank you, amazing people who have reviewed:**

**Grace Cullen (formerly Voldie's Vampire Mistress), -EHWIES, pstibbons, Aly Martin and LotL101!**

**I'll cease my rambling!**

* * *

A heavy gloom settled over the compartment, following the departure of one Severus Snape, a blanket of depression, each member drawn into their own thoughts. Dorcas perched in the seat opposite, her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms, face still flushed with the remnants of anger, whilst Alice, arms clutching Lily close, was the opposite colour, her face ashen. Lily herself had her head buried in her hands, her body trembling. 

"D'you fancy anything from the trolley, girls?"

All four jumped at the unexpected interruption, the compartment door had been pulled open, and a witch, perhaps in her mid-forties stood expectantly, wielding her trolley with precision in the busy corridor. Alice began to rummage through her purse, withdrawing a few sickles; Dorcas shoved her hand aside unexpectedly.

"I'll get it." She muttered to her quietly – much to Alice's embarrassment – her cheeks flushed, and she pushed Dorcas' hand away.

"It's fine Dorcas – thanks." Alice told her tersely – money was the only thing that ever caused Alice to be touchy.

"In case you've forgotten Ali, I owe you for that bet we made last year." Dorcas reminded her.

"What bet?" Alice asked, confusion etched on her face.

"The one on how many times Lily would reject Potter!" Dorcas whispered, hands cupped around her mouth, glancing at Lily cautiously.

"Cupping your hand around your mouth just draws attention to whatever you're about whispering!" Hermione informed them, the corners of her mouth twitching, amused, ransacking her pockets for change.

Dorcas shushed Hermione, grinning, and gesturing, first placing her finger on her lips and then pointing at Lily's turned back as she paid for her sweets.

"You can stop pointing at my back now Dorcas." Lily tossed over shoulder, checking her change, whilst grasping her stockpile of sweets.

Dorcas' jaw dropped. "How does she do that?" She asked, holding her hands to the heavens.

"Psychic." Lily told her smugly, dropping into a seat, sucking a fizzing whizbee. "Are you going to get anything?"

"Well, I thought-"

"You're not having _any _of mine!" Lily informed Dorcas, sweeping her sweets close to her.

Hermione exchanged glances with Alice before bursting out laughing. "Are they always like this?" she asked, looking from Dorcas to Lily, as she ordered her sweets.

"Pretty much." Alice rolled her eyes at her friends' antics. "They finish each other's sentences too sometimes!"

"We don't!" Both Lily and Dorcas chorused.

Hermione grinned, raising an eyebrow, passing the money to the witch, "Of course you don't" she and Alice said at the same time, causing Lily and Dorcas to giggle.

"We're not the only ones I see!" Dorcas smirked, standing. "Ali – what do you want?"

"I'm fine!" Alice insisted.

Dorcas cast her a sceptical glance. "Really? Some of everything please." she told the witch, who looked shocked, but began to dole out the sweets.

"That'll be a galleon and seven sickles love." The trolley lady held out a hand expectantly, and Dorcas (although looking outraged) obliged, and the trolley woman moved on.

"What a rip!" Dorcas' rant began as soon as the compartment door shut. "It's never been that much-"

A boom shook the train – sending Dorcas to the floor and scattering sweets everywhere. "Merlin! What on earth?" Lily scrambled to her feet, sticking her head outside the compartment door, as the others waited in anticipation.

"POTTER!"

* * *

James Potter lay sprawled across several compartment seats, relaxed, as he watched Sirius lose, as always, to Peter at chess. 

"Checkmate." Peter informed Sirius as Peter's knight trapped Sirius' king – causing Sirius' remaining pieces to hurl abuse at him.

"You utterly moronic idiot, can't you see that if you'd moved the queen-"

"You should have sacrificed him but _no-"_

"_Silencio!" _Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, as his pieces continued to gesticulate fiercely, a defeated bishop engaging one of Peter's rooks in combat. "It's times like this I love magic."

James snickered, as Remus pointed out, "You might actually win for once if you took their advice."

"Well, I have to let Wormie win at _something_!" Sirius sighed, making Peter flinch and Remus squirm uncomfortably.

James started, noticing, perhaps for the first time, the sullen expression on Peter's face as Sirius gave a bark of laughter, slapping Peter on the back by way of apology – James blinked and it was gone, Peter laughing along with Sirius, asking about Sirius' latest conquest. James shook his head, clearing his mind, and joined in the laughter.

"Padfoot – look who's just passing by!"

Sirius sat bolt upright, like a predator who's prey had just emerged. "Would that be our dear friend Snivellus by any chance?"

"How did you guess?" James asked him, grinning.

"How about another game of chess?" Remus asked hurriedly. "Or Exploding Snap?" He withdrew the pack of cards his bag, which promptly emitted a violent bang, smoke curling out of the packet.

"Moony," Sirius sighed "What better sport is there than Snivelly?" and with that, Sirius shot from the compartment, followed immediately by James and more reluctantly by Remus, Peter tagging along at the end, expression eager.

"Snivellus!" James called. "How kind of you to drop by."

"Very obliging of you." Sirius added, twirling his wand between two fingers.

Snape swore, hand immediately plunging into his robes, he withdrew his wand such speed, that it seemed such an attack was expected.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Snape was jettisoned backwards with the force of the spell, his wand flying from his hand, colliding with the wall heavily. Various faces began to emerge curiously from compartments, both confused and curious. Laughter echoed round the corridor, accompanied by snickers.

"Had a good summer Snivelly?"

"Finally manage to wash your pants Snivellus?"

Snape swore, curses streaming from his lips, a mixture of hexes and curse words, but with his wand down the other end of the corridor, there was no effect and, in a last-ditch effort, he made a leap for his wand.

"Going so soon Snivelly? _Impedimenta!" _

"POTTER!"

Lily burst out of the compartment, lips pursed in anger, pursued by Dorcas, Hermione and Alice, wand outstretched.

"You foul little bully!" Lily marched towards the Marauders, anger outlining her every movement. Hermione's face, already tight with fury, reddened further at the sight of one Remus Lupin. That arse.

"Hello Evans," James began, voice more mature, deeper than normal. Sirius rolled his eyes, evidently used to this kind of occurrence. Remus' eyes were glued to the floor, and Peter's head flicked from Lily to James like a spectator's at a tennis match.

"Kindly refrain from hurting _people_," Lily emphasized the word people, evidently desiring as much disassociation from Snape as possible. "Or you'll find yourself losing house points before term starts Potter!"

James' eyes widened momentarily, before he responded, "Nice bluff Evans."

"I can," Lily told him coolly, "and I will if you don't stop."

"Don't worry Prongs," Sirius smirked. "She'll never do it."

"Watch out!" Peter called, as a shot of purple light flew up the passageway, ricocheting off the walls.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Dorcas reacted faster than the rest of them, firing a spell at Snape where he stood, grinning viciously, binding his limbs together.

"Why thank you BFG – I never knew you had it in you." Sirius smirked.

"It definitely wasn't for you Black." Dorcas replied, voice tight with anger. "Snape had that one coming."

"Whilst I appreciate the thought beanpole, I don't tend to go for girls who can be mistaken for giants." Sirius retorted. Three wands became trained on Sirius; all three of the owners, pictures of outrage. Dorcas replied a smug tone,

"You might want to retract that statement Black."

"It's only the truth!" Sirius grinned, tossing his hair – several members of his 'fanclub' had arrived, wands pointed at the girls' faces.

"Tell you what Evans – you go out with me, and I'll never lay a wand on anyone again. On my honour."

"Honour? Please Potter – try swearing on something I'd value!" Lily spat. "You're a disgusting, infantile little boy – when you're ready to grow up, join the real world."

James reddened – whether in hurt or anger, Hermione was unsure. She remembered Lupin had once mentioned that Harry took after James in one aspect in particular – honour and loyalty meant a great deal to both father _and_ son.

"So Ormond, how're things going with Master Longarse?" Sirius drawled. Alice's face turned wan, and she turned on her heel and left, firing her angry response,

"To be frank that's none of you're business."

Sirius roared with laughter. "Nice pun!" causing Dorcas to fire a jinx at him, which narrowly missed. Lily and Dorcas exchanged a bemused glance, momentarily confused at Alice's abrupt departure, before focussing on the Marauders once more.

"You _sicken_ me Potter – you bully people for the fun of it, insult my friends and expect me to want to go out with you? You can add delusional to your list of _fine_ qualities!"

"And what might those be?" James smirked. "Handsome, intelligent-"

"-Egocentric, idiotic, bullying git!" Lily finished. "I hope the Quidditch team doesn't need you this year – your broom won't be able to make it off the ground!"

With this parting shot, Lily stalked off, leaving Dorcas and Hermione to it. "Are you done with these primordial pillocks?" Dorcas inquired icily.

"Almost." Hermione glared at Remus. "Thank you for waiting for me Remus, it was _greatly _appreciated-"

"I was going to apologise about that!" Remus cried, finally looking up, much to the other Marauder's bewilderment.

"And then," Hermione continued angrily, "You stand by and watch as those _two_," she pronounced with disgust. "Assault another student – you a _prefect_!"

Hermione made as if spun on her heel, reconsidered, turned on her heel and slapped Remus. "Consider yourself thanked." She told him coldly. "Are you coming Dorcas?" she asked the seventh year beside her who gaped, but swiftly recovered her equilibrium.

"Well." James managed, stunned. "That was a first!"

"Women." Sirius shook his head, sadly, attracting several sympathetic sighs to his 'dilemma' from various girls in the vicinity.

"_Furnunculus!"_

Sirius ducked the incoming spell at the last second which instead, struck James, causing boils to sprout all over him, puce and angry looking, James managed to maintain a level of decorum, leaving Sirius to laugh at his plight.

* * *

"Those pathetic, juvenile, infantile idiots!" 

Those were the words that greeted Dorcas and Hermione as they re-entered the compartment.

"Flattered I'm sure." Dorcas commented.

"You seem happy." Lily grumbled, arms firmly crossed.

"I've just hexed both Snape and Potter – of course I'm happy. And Hermione here slapped Lupin!" Dorcas bit into a chocolate frog, ending on a tone of surprise. "Who wouldn't be happy?"

Lily raised an eyebrow as she reprimanded Dorcas. "Violence isn't –mmph!" she ended, as Dorcas shoved a blood-lollipop in her mouth. "That's disgusting!" she cried, yanking the lollipop out of her mouth and casting it away from her. "Why did you buy _that_?" she asked.

"I bought some of everything." Dorcas shrugged, as Hermione smothered a giggle. "You never know when blood flavoured lollipops might come in handy."

* * *

"I do believe that's Moony's first ever slap!" Sirius pronounced, as Remus rubbed his cheek – Hermione evidently didn't believe in slapping gently. 

"Could we focus here?" James asked, wincing as he sat – evidently the boils weren't reserved solely for his face.

"Sorry Prongs." Remus continued to flick through his book. "I've nearly found the counter-curse…"

"Come on Remus!" James nearly shouted, boils pulsating slightly.

"Let me just think…" Remus' eyes twinkled in mischief. "Hmmm…this is could take a while…what a pity Prongs!"

"Moony." James threatened. "If you don't perform that counter curse now I'll-"

"Squirt pus at him?" Sirius laughed as James scowled at him. "Sorry mate. Rejected and covered in boils – a brilliant start to the school year Prongs!"

"Thank you for reminding me!" James growled at Sirius, making a mental note to hex Sirius sometime in the near future.

* * *

Falling, through a vortex of fire, bricks and smoke, Enid emerged at the atrium, coughing, spluttering and covered in soot. As she staggered out of the fireplace, Enid quelled her stomach with effort, hoping to retain a modicum of dignity in front of her colleagues – how she loathed floo powder! Enid longed for the quiet, cruising calm of a car, conveniently forgetting the crashes, breakages and traffic-jams that drivers suffered. She was most probably the only witch in existence who preferred muggle means of transportation, Enid mused, brushing the soot off her clothes. 

A crowd flooded outwards of the lift, golden grates sliding open – the night crew most probably - a ragtag bunch of Aurors, Auror trainees (comprised of inexperienced academy students, whose pallid, clammy faces indicated they had been put through their paces) and several members of the Correction of Miscast Spells department, whose sole purpose was to ensure that the Ministry remained in existence as a hive of magical and mundane activity, rather than as a smoking hole in the ground – of course, Experimental Charms _still _managed wreak havoc, but the Correction staff weren't miracle workers.

Enid raced towards the lift, using a shortcut to sprint past the fountain of magical brethren – the most revolting piece of sculpture she had ever seen, in Enid's opinion – to slip into the lift as the grilles slammed shut, panting heavily from the exertion. Enid made a mental note – she _had _to get fitter. Stooped over, Enid had failed to notice one Ezekiel Nott, moustache twitching – as always, whenever he was in Enid's immediate vicinity – in disapproval.

"How very dignified Miss Jones." He sneered, as Enid regained her breath.

"I'm afraid so Mr Nott." Inwardly Enid seethed at the Death Eater's cheek, longing to curse him, but not daring to – Ezekiel Nott wielded a large amount of influence in the Ministry – she couldn't afford to anger him.

"One would think an _Unspeakable_, at least, would behave with dignity." He looked down his nose at her. "It seems however, that poor upbringing with _muggles _has an adverse effect."

Sucking in a deep breath – and remembering her own advice to Benjy just recently about 'rising above it' Enid replied cautiously. "I'm doubt I'm the first person to run to catch the lift before."

"And not the last I'll be certain." Nott sniffed. "By the way Miss Jones, you might find it advisable to cut your ties with a _certain _group who have suffered in the media recently. Or you might find yourself out of a job –_ such _a pity. We'll be watching you." He leered, sweeping out of the lift, leaving Enid, her jaw hanging open in shock, praying that Nott was bluffing – he _was_ a Death Eater posing as an everyday citizen, well, she amended, a bigoted pureblood supremacist who was _supposed _to be on the right side of the law – his bluffing and lying skills were probably well honed. Or so she hoped.

Enid slammed her mouth shut as a crowd entered the lift, accompanied by a horde of inter-department memos which circled above them, in an almost predatory fashion (she'd heard Benjy's theory several hundred times that they behaved according to the nature of the letter), and Enid resigned herself to her fate – crushed to death by the masses of Ministry workers.

The lift shuddered into motion once more, and Enid, for once, wasn't plagued by imaginings of the lift freefalling – instead, Nott's parting words haunted her. What did he mean, she might find herself out of a job? Was it a threat, a promise or an empty comment of no real value?

Either way, she had to inform _someone _in the Order – perhaps not Dumbledore himself, but she had to be sure. Considering the corruption that existed within the Ministry, it was entirely possible that this was solely a Ministry idea. Entirely possible, but highly unlikely – someone within the Ministry was playing a very dangerous game. Much like her, she supposed, considering the current political climate.

* * *

The train ride passed smoothly after that slight blip, and Hermione to her surprise, once more, had found herself, instead of comparing times, actually enjoying herself. They had moved on from debating the pro's (if there were indeed _any_) of blood-flavoured lollipops – the general consensus being the only use they had was as vampire baits – to a sweet fight (which Dorcas, unsurprisingly, won). Shortly after the end of a fierce debate on House Elf rights, mediated by Alice, the girls had finally decided to put on their robes, organized by Lily. 

Dorcas, having wriggled into her robes faster than anyone might have expected, was now making a card tower, using exploding snap cards – Hermione was convinced this would end in tears. _Bang! _As Hermione pulled her robes over her head, she wasn't disappointed – an abrupt bang startled her, and she fell backwards, onto something soft.

"Don't even _think_ about it!" Dorcas warned.

"Hermione?" Alice's voice came out faintly from behind her. "You wouldn't mind getting off me would you?"

Someone yanked Hermione's robes down, making a ripping noise, and Hermione snapped. "Please be careful!"

"Dorcas!" Lily admonished. "_Reparo._ For crying out loud _be careful_ Dorcas!"

"It wasn't intentional!" Dorcas retorted. "I'm sorry, alright?" She addressed Hermione.

"In future, a warning would be appreciated!"

"Look there's no harm done," Alice intervened, as the three girls looked as though a major battle was about to ensue. "Let's just drop it? Okay?"

Dorcas looked ready to continue the argument, but dropped it as Alice pointed out that her eyebrows were still smoking.

"So what's Hogwarts like?" Hermione asked, eager to move the conversation onwards. Strangely enough, it was Alice replied, who, after the meeting with the Marauders, had been rather subdued.

"It's home," She said simply. "There's no other way to describe it."

"Amazing," Lily breathed, eyes clouding in remembrance. "You just have to watch out for-"

"Peeves, the Marauders and the Slytherins." Dorcas interrupted, "Peeves is bad luck, the Marauders are gits and the Slytherins – evil!"

"She'll want to take the train back at this rate Dorcas!" Lily informed her.

"At least give Hogwarts a chance to win her over!" Alice told her, snatching the cards away from Dorcas as she attempted to create another tower. "No more explosions beanpole."

"Which house is the best?" Hermione asked, attempting to sound uncertain. "I mean, Gryffindor seems quite good but-"

"Gryffindor!" Dorcas informed her, grinning. "How could any other house compare?"

"Hufflepuff isn't bad," Alice told her, grinning at Dorcas.

"You're only saying that because your boyfriend was a Hufflepuff!" Dorcas crowed, and Alice, after blinking for a second, feigned hurt.

"I sincerely believe that Hufflepuff is a great, noble house of-"

"Rejects!" Dorcas laughed. "That's where everyone who isn't wanted goes!"

Lily looked disgusted with her friend, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, Hermione – it doesn't matter."

"What about Slytherin?" Hermione asked, noting that Lily had left the house of snakes from the equation.

"They…" Lily hesitated. "Are different." She offered, somewhat lamely.

"Don't worry-" Alice began, but was interrupted by a shrill whistle, and a jolt, as the train pulled into the station. Dorcas tossed their luggage from the racks with casual ease, which Hermione was quite envious of, and Lily, organized, as always it seemed, ushered them out of the compartment.

"Firs' years over 'ere, firs' years!" Hagrid yelled, holding a lantern aloft, and it took all Hermione's will power to resist the urge to either hug Hagrid tightly, or squeeze her eyes shut and pretend she wasn't at Hogwarts. In the end, Hermione wasn't forced to choose, as Lily and Alice dragged her hurriedly through the throng after Dorcas, who strode ahead impatiently, towards the carriages, her height making her easy to find. Hermione perched nervously in the carriage, fingers twisting around each other and biting her lip, her nerves getting the best of her.

"You'll be fine." Lily whispered to her. "It'll be over in a minute, I promise."

"It's not that." Hermione muttered back, as Dorcas and Alice exchanged rumours about various first year journeys across the lake. "It's just my plans for an anonymous entry have been ruined."

Lily smothered a smile. "Well, in that case, why worry about the inevitable?"

Those words resounded with Hermione, more than Lily knew. "Because it's inevitable." She whispered back. "I don't want to be a puppet."

* * *

"_A thousand years ago_

_When my stitches were still new, _

_I was spelled for but one purpose_

_Dividing all of you. _

_Twas Ravenclaw who found the charm, _

_But Gryffindor who spelled me, _

_And tho' this tradition carries on, _

_I worry,_

_Were our founders wrong?_

_United by their common goal, _

_Hogwarts was begun. _

_Tho' a school of learning,_

_I must separate the throng.  
_

_Gryffindor chose only the bold, _

_Whose daring deeds were sung._

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest _

_Would always be the best. _

_Slytherin prized cunning, _

_A slyness purebred._

_And Hufflepuff, kind and true, _

_I'll take them all, she said._

_The division grew, fights broke out,_

_And the four dwindled to three, _

_And yet, this division has carried on,_

_Throughout our history._

_Stand together, united from within, _

_And no outside force may win._

_My warning echoes centuries past, _

_And yet they never learn:_

_Stand strong in Hogwarts, _

_Oh students mine, _

_Or we'll all pay the cost._

_Still I sort, _

_Tho' I fear it's wrong, _

_And maybe you agree with me, _

_Still come and try me on. _

A broken applause greeted the sorting hat's song, students turning to whisper to one another 'what was that about?' – never before had any student heard the Sorting Hat give such a warning. Nearly Headless Nick was being interrogated by a group of third years, curious as to it's meaning, and the Fat Friar comforted the first years, who stared at the hat wildly, expressions a mixture of confused, assured and terrified. Hermione stood at the back of the line of new students, feeling completely imbecilic, but grateful for the distraction of the Sorting Hat's song – she had been accosted by a much younger looking Professor McGonagall and informed she was to queue with the first years, ignoring Dorcas' loud and prolonged protest. Alice had attempted to sneak Hermione into the hall anyway (dragging Hermione, who had stubbornly planted her feet in the ground, refusing to disobey McGonagall) but had been stopped and thoroughly told off by Lily, much to Hermione's relief, who, although sympathetic to Hermione's plight, stood firm – Hermione was to queue with the first years.

Dumbledore rose, at the staff table, clearing his voice. "Welcome students, old and new, to Hogwarts. Before our new students join us and we are fed and watered, I have one small announcement." Dumbledore continued to smile serenely, as a chorus of loud groans greeted the news. "A new student has joined us, whom some of you-" Dumbledore's twinkling gaze landed on the red-faced Remus, and the impatient Dorcas. "May already be acquainted with – Hermione Granger."

McGonagall cleared her voice. "Granger Hermione."

Hermione stepped from the back of the queue, desperately trying to ignore the scrutiny of the students' but failing miserably. Darting towards the Sorting Hat, Hermione jammed the hat on her head, praying for a quick outcome. She strongly suspected the hat would have fun trying to gauge her thoughts – Hermione was torn between the houses; her new friends, and her duty.

"_My, my, you are torn, aren't you?" _The Sorting Hat commented in Hermione's mind.

"Just…put me somewhere." Hermione thought at the hat.

"_Hmm…a mind suitable for Ravenclaw and certainly, a logic that would serve you well, but you disagree?"_

"I…Gryffindor…no. Not Gryffindor!"

"_My, my…indecisive aren't you?" _The hat whispered. "_I think my first instincts are perhaps the best, although you would do particularly well in Ravenclaw, still…best be GRYFFINDOR!"_

Hermione yanked the hat off her head, unaware of the polite applause she received (although Alice's loud and enthusiastic applause managed to penetrate her focus), and she stumbled towards Gryffindor table, her inner turmoil not lessened at all. On one hand, she was glad to be in Gryffindor once more, somewhere familiar, with new friends. On the other hand, Hermione was all too aware, she would be constantly comparing the Hogwarts of yesteryear with the Hogwarts of the 1990's.

Dorcas gave her thumbs up, Alice a warm hug and Lily a look that said 'I told you so', accompanied by a grin. As Hermione slumped in her chair, head leaning on Alice's shoulder, the sorting began properly.

"When I call your name, you will put the hat on and sit on the stool to be sorted." McGonagall called, stern face peering over the top of the scroll. ("I've always wanted to say that!" Dorcas muttered to Hermione, but was swiftly silenced by a glare from Lily.) "Altair Phillip."

A small boy, his mop of blonde hair falling in his eyes, sprinted forward, tripping over in his haste. The hat fell right over his eyes, and it seemed an age before 'Altair Phillip' was sorted into "SLYTHERIN", the house bedecked in green bursting into a polite applause.

The Sorting, once it had begun, seemed to last forever, the line of first years extending to the back of the hall, and curving behind one of the tables – evidently there were more magical people in 1976 than in 1996, Hermione mused, remembering her own sorting as "Mabe Isabelle" was sorted into Ravenclaw. The ghosts mingled freely, and Hermione shuddered as she saw the Bloody Baron.

"He never talks" Dorcas whispered, seemingly determined to keep a running commentary up for the duration of the sorting. "I wonder how he-"

"For Merlin's sake Dorcas be quiet!" Lily shushed her, and Dorcas pulled a face at Lily's back, immediately looking innocent, as Lily turned round. Finally after "Zabek Maddox" – a gangling boy with protruding teeth – was sorted into Hufflepuff, the feast began.

"Humbugs?" Hermione asked Alice confusedly, as Alice helped herself liberally to the mint humbugs.

"I have strange tastes!" Alice replied, crunching her humbug.

"We know that!" Lily laughed, busily drizzling gravy over her mashed potato.

Hermione laughed at the strange trio, momentarily forgetting about the future and her past – all that existed was the Great Hall, and her new found friends.

* * *

Hestia Jones tore into the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, currently located at the burrow, a panicked expression engraved in her features. "Molly!" she panted. "Molly – Emmeline's gone!" 

"What?" Molly glanced up from the stove. "She can't have done Hestia, she flooed me just this morning!"

"No Molly – you don't understand – she _disappeared_!"

"Hestia." Molly soothed, stirring the soup. "She probably just apparated unexpectedly, that's all!"

"Molly!" Hestia almost screamed. "I was holding on to her – she didn't apparate!"

Molly's spoon clattered to the ground, and she spun anxiously. "Hestia – what happened?" she cried, afraid of the answer.

"I reported her missing at the Ministry – I know," she added, at Molly's expression. "They must've thought I was raving." She tumbled over her words, trying to get them out as quickly as possible. "They gave me this." She pushed a file across the table, large letters scribed on the front in bold, red ink.

Deceased 18th October 1976.

* * *

**A/N: My original author's note appears to have vanished (or gone into none-being as Professor McGonagall said), so I've replaced it. Hopefully, you've enjoyed this chapter, despite the lack of action, and have picked up on the plot twists! Let me know what you think (especially the Sorting Hat's song), concrit is more than welcome, and thanks for reading this!**


	7. Suspicions

**Disclaimer: The Monty Python and the Holy Grail, belongs to the creators of Monty Python, the Monty Python comedy group and Gilliam and Jones (the directors).**

**A/N: Another chapter up, thanks again to my readers, the people who've added me to their alerts and of course my brilliant reviewers (the personal thanks are at the end by the way): Aly Martin, LotL101, WuHaoNi, Margarite Isabelle and Lily the Marauder!**

**Reviews are more than welcome, particuarly concrit as it'll improve my writing by leaps and bounds! I'll include a more extensive ramble at the end so I don't bore you further!**

**On quick note (sorry) this chapter was originally intended to cover the time up to Hermione's birthday (September 19th) but unfortunately, it didn't seem to fit, so that'll probably fall under the _next _chapter (pstibbons, it should start to fall into place then - I promise!)**

* * *

Dorcas rotated her schedule one-way and then another, face contorted in confusion, "I can't make head or tails of this!" she complained, throwing her timetable down in disgust, which landed on her cereal bowl wobbling precariously. 

"You've been here seven years Dorcas!" Alice exclaimed, rescuing Dorcas' timetable. "Surely you can read your timetable by now!" she finished, handing the timetable across to Lily and Hermione, who inspected it curiously.

"You're more forgetful than me!" Dorcas accused, mock-scowling at Alice.

"I never claimed to be not to be_,"_ Alice grinned, biting into her toast. "But that's not your problem – just reading timetables!"

"This is really getting silly Dorcas." Lily sighed heavily, tapping Dorcas' timetable with her wand so that each individual subject flashed a different colour, reminding Hermione of the way she'd done that to Ron's schedule, which felt so long ago.

"It just doesn't make sense!" Dorcas insisted, taking her timetable back off Lily. "Besides," she grinned. "Why break with tradition?"

Hermione smiled absent-mindedly, still reminiscing half fondly, more bitterly. "Because you'll be going into a job next year, and Lily won't be there to sort you out?" she offered, toying with her porridge.

Dorcas pulled a face. "I'll cope." She muttered, shoving her timetable into her bag. "You've got options this morning, haven't you?" she asked, spooning cereal into her mouth at speed.

"Don't remind me." Alice grumbled, frowning into her pumpkin juice. "McGonagall'll roast me."

"Why?"

"I got an A in Transfiguration." Alice muttered a slow flush creeping across her face.

"That's not _that _bad." Dorcas told her. "McGonagall knows you can do better – she'll let you in."

"I hope she will," Alice murmured, before turning to Hermione, asking loudly, "So what are you going to take?"

Hermione shrugged – OWLs, following the initial flurry of finding herself in the past, had been a large worry. Fortunately, Dumbledore, through various contacts, had managed to arrange for Hermione to take them over the summer - of course, Hermione hadn't done as well as she would have liked – it was to be expected. You couldn't survive a magical ordeal, take your exams and expect to receive all O's – it was unrealistic. Still, Hermione had been disappointed on receiving her results – 6 Oustandings, 3 Exceeds Expectations and an Acceptable in Astronomy. "I'm thinking about taking Transfiguration, DADA, Charms, Arithmancy or Ancient Runes and Potions."

"Don't take Ancient Runes," Dorcas cautioned, waving her spoon wildly. "It's really-" the hoots and flaps of many owls swooping into the hall cut off the remainder of Dorcas' sentence, some gliding gracefully into the hall, whilst others flew awkwardly, wings flapping slowly. "Crap." Dorcas finished, face falling as an owl ploughed into her cereal bowl, causing Hermione and Lily to laugh. Dorcas inspected the addressee, before picking the owl up and tossing him into Alice's lap. "Your owl, I do believe." she informed her, as the owl fell into Alice's lap – Dorcas wasn't known to be particularly enamoured of owls.

Alice blinked at the owl uncertainly, her flush draining to a pallid white. An elegant, flowing script on the front detailed the recipient. "Alice?" Hermione asked nudging Alice gently, as Dorcas pumped her hand up and down in front of her face, only to be poked sternly by Lily. Alice started, "Yeah?" she asked, glancing around as though she'd just awoken from a dream.

"Your letter?" Lily pointed to the letter in Alice's lap.

"Oh, right." Alice flexed her fingers, colour still drained from her face, and she fingered the envelope nervously.

Raucous laughter echoed round the hall, and Lily glanced in the direction of its' source. "What are they doing now?" she muttered, glaring at the unfortunate crowd. Dorcas yawned, stretching on the bench, which upended, surprising Dorcas and tipping her onto the floor. "Bugger!" she laughed.

Alice smoothed the envelope with trembling fingers, before flipping it over, and Hermione caught sight of a crest, embossed with 'Toujours-.' But Hermione was unable to see the rest as Alice ripped the envelope open - who could this letter be from she wondered? Hermione leant over, curious to see the contents of the letter that disturbed Alice so –whilst Lily glared at the raucous crowd and Dorcas, having lost interest after falling onto the floor, continued to shovel cereal into her mouth. Alice scanned the contents of the letter briefly, before noticing the Hermione's curiosity and slotted the paper into her bag. "It's just from Frank," she announced calmly, although her face was still wan, and Hermione doubted that the contents was anything particularly positive – or perhaps it was the writer, she deliberated. "Are you sure you don't want to tell…?" she pried gently, only to meet Alice's firm,

"There's nothing to tell." She assured Hermione, grasping the quivering owl carefully. "I'd best take him to Professor Kettleburn." She swept out of the hall abruptly, leaving Hermione to frown, pondering at what had perturbed her so.

* * *

"I wonder where Ormond's going." Peter demurred, twisting his head after the departing girl. 

"Probably to go and see Professor Kettleburn with a cat with a twisted paw." Sirius raised an eyebrow, before launching into a cruel and uncanny impression of Alice. "_Oh Professor Kettleburn, this kneazle's claw is a different colour, I'm so worried Professor!" _

James grinned at his friend, high-fiving him; whilst Remus laughed hoarsely – the full moon's approach was soon, and its lurking presence was starting to make its effects felt – the fact that this imitation was somewhat cruel didn't strike him, but then it _was _the morning.

"I can't wait for full moon." Sirius muttered.

"You might." Remus groaned inwardly, remembering the date the full moon was due – the 8th September. He wished it were a month away – perhaps longer.

"We can keep making that map." Peter chimed in, dancing backwards in front of the others.

"Shh!" James shushed his friend. "We don't want someone," he added, glancing towards the Prewitt twins, red spots amidst a large crowd and their chief rivals in mischief making. "To overhear us!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah Prongs – I mean, odds are the Prewitt twins have an invisibility cloak, are animagi and have werewolf friend – yeah, really _likely_."

"Could we refrain from talking about my furry little problem?" Remus asked, a sarcastic note coming through on his 'furry little problem' whilst glancing around.

"What's that rabbit done to you now?" Davey Gudgeon inquired loudly, a broad blond boy, a scar crossing his left eye, causing James, Sirius and Peter to laugh, and forcing Remus to contain the urge to kick both them and Gudgeon silent.

"He bit me with his nasty, big, pointy teeth and has a vicious streak a mile wide!" Remus deadpanned, rescuing himself from the situation, Davey and Peter cracking up whilst James and Sirius stood confusedly, before Sirius assumed a haughty expression to hide his embarrassment and shunted them into the great hall, pursued by a gaggle of girls.

"So Potter, Black – got any pranks planned?" Davey asked curiously.

"Now _that _would be telling Gudgeon." Sirius tapped his nose conspiratorially.

"Top secret." James grinned, as Remus added, suppressing a grin;

"If we told you, we'd have to kill you."

Remus froze upon entering the hall, spotting Hermione amongst the girls. He eyed her cautiously, wondering if he was to be the recipient of another slap, rubbing his cheek in remembrance and wincing. James caught sight of the direction of his glance, and sighed at his friend.

"She's just one girl Moony."

"It's not that Prongs-"

"She's nothing special." Sirius interrupted, "Big teeth, bushy hair – you can do better Moony!"

Remus frowned halfheartedly at his friends – they'd grasped the wrong end of the stick entirely, although he appreciated the fact that they were trying to help. "It's not like that." He muttered.

"Sure." Sirius dug him in the ribs with an elbow, smirking, as Hermione fixed him with a paralyzing glare, before whipping her head back round angrily.

"Moony." Peter interjected almost inaudibly. "She'll come round eventually."

Sirius snorted incredulously, "You could be waiting a while!"

"So how's the girlfriend Gudgeon?" James asked curiously, as a curly-haired Ravenclaw waved at Davey.

"Oh – Florence?" Davey wiggled his eyebrows. "Yeah Flo's great."

"Yeah," Sirius sniggered. "We heard about your _escapades _round the back of the greenhouses last year."

"I got Jorkins back for that." Davey scowled, the skin around his scar puckering.

"Where's Big-mouth Bertha gone?" Peter asked curiously – Bertha had been a Gryffindor seventh year the year before and a source of constant annoyance for every other member of the house.

"I think she's on the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee." Davey commented.

Remus sniggered as Davey wandered over to the Hufflepuff table. "Little bit ironic!"

"Thank Merlin Big-mouth's gone." James sighed, stretching back as he settled at the Gryffindor table, ruffling his hair distractedly, before commenting to Sirius. "Now Padfoot doesn't have to worry 'bout her spreading the word!"

* * *

Enid stumbled out of bed a splitting head-ache gnawing at her relentlessly. Swallowing a paracetamol, after realising she was all out of painkiller potions, the pain slowly began to recede. This allowed Enid enough mastery of her senses to make herself a cup of tea – black, with a teaspoon of sugar – and sip it cautiously, without slopping tea all over herself _and _the kitchen work surfaces. 

She considered calling in sick momentarily, before remembering Nott's words –

"_And not the last I'll be certain. By the way Miss Jones, you might find it advisable to cut your ties with a __certain __group who have suffered in the media recently. Or you might find yourself out of a job –__ such __a pity. We'll be watching you."_

She couldn't afford to give the Ministry any excuse to cause trouble, she realised, heart sinking – the Order needed people within the Ministry, both to keep tabs on the Ministry's doings and to recruit new members, since the Ministry had turned it's back on the Order, insisting they could win the war without them. They were, Enid thought, afraid of the power the Order would attain if the war was won. _Once _the war was won, Enid corrected herself sternly, squashing her cynical side, whilst draining her tea.

Glancing up at the kitchen clock, Enid gasped aloud – it was 9:30 – she was over an hour late for work. A whirlwind of movement, Enid tore round her flat, cursing herself inwardly – hadn't she just reminded herself to give the Ministry no excuses? She'd never had this many troubles since joining the Order, she griped, snatching her wand and glasses from the bedside table. Settling her glasses on her nose and yanking a brush through her hair, Enid amended her last thought, realising with a start, that her closest friends, both from Hogwarts and new, were all in the Order – she had something at least, to be thankful towards the Order for – Benjy, Marlene, Sturgis, Mad-Eye and even Eddie, whom she'd known at Hogwarts.

Perhaps Enid mused, dashing towards the fireplace; the Order wasn't such a bad thing. Straightening an ornament on the mantelpiece, Enid sighed. There was something missing in her flat, more than straight ornaments or pain-killer potions – a feeling of emptiness and solitude permeated the air. It was then Enid remembered what her flat was missing – Hermione. Another glance at her watch warned her it was twenty to ten. Definitely time to be going. Grasping a handful of floo powder, Enid threw it into the fire, and vanished in green.

* * *

Hermione slipped out of McGonagall's office, clutching her timetable, which she promptly inspected – she had several free periods. Plenty of time to commence her search for ways to return to 1996. She would never give up, she vowed. Her heart ached for Ron's corny jokes and bad temper, and Harry's bravery, but Hermione steeled herself – she was alone and she _could _pull herself out of this mess she'd got herself into. Hermione knew that getting attached to people in this time would hinder her no end, and yet her nature couldn't allow her _not _to. She was a mother-hen, constantly fretting over the fate of her chicks. Although, Hermione smiled wryly, her new friends didn't seem to need much looking after. Dorcas was perhaps the most explosive-tempered person she'd ever come across – as was Lily, both susceptible to the most extreme of emotions although whilst Lily's anger was righteous the majority of the time, Dorcas merely appeared to be excessively touchy. And, of course there was Alice – possibly the nicest girl Hermione had met – except when it came to subjects she didn't want to discuss – then Alice closed up like a clam. Hermione suspected she bottled everything up – one day it would all explode, she knew. She shouldn't get attached, she reminded herself, drawing on her centre of iron willpower – not when she knew their combined fates. 

Slotting her timetable into her bag, Hermione hurried along the corridor, instinct to arrive at lessons on time, overriding the urge to dawdle – she knew once in lessons, she would enter into them whole-heartedly, momentarily losing her focus, forgetting. Something she couldn't afford currently.

"Hey," someone panted, "wait for me!" A hand fell on her shoulder and Hermione turned sharply, hand halfway towards her wand – she'd become much more cautious since the attack in Diagon Alley. "Hermione – it's me – Alice!"

Alice raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, and Hermione, after a moment's hesitation, lowered her wand. There was something off about Alice. That morning's incident shone brightly in her mind –'Toujours'. There was certainly something Alice wasn't telling, something concealed – still, for the moment, Hermione had no evidence. She was willing to give the benefit of the doubt – she still remembered her first impression of Alice, as a nice friendly girl, and Hermione found it difficult to reconcile the girl of that morning with the friendly woman waving in the photo. It was far easier to picture the girl she had first met as the woman she might become, if all went well.

"Sorry," Hermione apologised, stowing her wand back into her pocket. "It's a bit of an instinct." She explained, allowing Alice to come alongside her.

"Not a problem," Alice chirped brightly, taking the steps two at a time, returning to the perpetual optimist she seemed to be – a girl of contradictions, in Hermione's opinion. "Are you thinking about the Quidditch trials?" she asked curiously, "with reflexes like that you'd be a good Beater – especially after the way you smacked Remus!"

Hermione stopped abruptly, jaw going slack, before she burst into peals of laughter. "Me?" she giggled helplessly, "I'm terrible on a broom – really, truly awful." She finished, straightening. "Why?" she asked, "Are you on the team?"

"Reserve Chaser." Alice informed her. "Dorcas is though – she's Keeper."

"I would have thought Dorcas would've been a beater." Hermione commented – she could imagine Dorcas venting her emotions on a bludger. "Can you imagine Dorcas playing Seeker?"

It was Alice's turn to break into laughter, "Oh Merlin – Dorcas – a Seeker?" Alice's face lit up and she cackled manically (Hermione could see why Dorcas and Lily referred to her as the wicked witch – she laughed like a villain from a Disney film) clutching to the banisters as the staircase swung for balance. "Dorcas!" she laughed, as Hermione ushered her off the staircase.

"So what about Lily?" Hermione asked the obligatory question, knowing it was expected.

"Dire. That's probably why she hates Potter so much – he loves the sport she hates!" Alice mused, as Hermione steered round a corner, ensuring Alice didn't walk straight into a wall.

"Charms?" Alice asked Hermione, yanking her schedule from her bag.

"Yes," Hermione replied, recalling her own time-table. "Then DADA?" she inquired.

Alice's face fell as she glanced at her schedule, looking disappointed – probably wanted to have some company, Hermione thought. "Care of Magical Creatures."

"Won't Lily have Charms?" the thought occurred to Hermione – Lily was supposed to have been excellent at Charms.

"Probably," Alice shrugged, "She likes to be early to lessons."

"That doesn't surprise me." Hermione remarked, weaving her way through the mob of students.

Alice smiled wryly at Hermione. "You're very perceptive." She observed. "Definitely not another Dorcas!"

"I have a feeling that you wouldn't say that to Dorcas' face!" Hermione grinned at Alice knowingly.

"If I want to retain my limbs to an old age I wouldn't!" Alice grinned back at Hermione. "It's here." She pointed to a nearby classroom, a stream of students filtering into it – it wasn't the same room Flitwick taught in, in 1996.

"That's not the room on the timetable." Hermione pointed out, glancing from Alice to the classroom.

"Oh – I think the Marauders pulled some stunt," Alice answered vaguely, face twisted in memory. "Oh - I remember!" she exclaimed, "They turned the classroom upside down – so the chairs are on the ceiling, that kind of thing – except they used permanent sticking charms!" Alice chuckled, "McGonagall went spare!"

"I thought you didn't like the Marauders…" Hermione began slowly, confused.

"Oh, I don't particularly like them – I mean they're bullies, for Merlin's sake! But some of their pranks _are _funny – even if Lily and Dorcas won't admit it." Alice justified, slipping inside the classroom.

Hermione frowned – in this case, she was probably more inclined to agree with Lily and Dorcas, but she recalled Fred and George's pranks against Umbridge – _sometimes_, pranks could be funny. There must be counter spell, even for a permanent sticking charm, she thought, curiosity rising – otherwise our lessons would never move back there. Allowing Alice to drag her across to Lily, Hermione slipped into a seat, thoughts for once, far from the future.

* * *

Remus hurtled up the stairs, two, three at a time, cursing his friends. So dropping water balloons on the Slytherins below might have been funny at the time – but he was now late for Charms. Remus just thanked Merlin he hadn't had Transfiguration – Professor McGonagall would have eaten him alive. The staircase in front of him swivelled and Remus cursed loudly, before he remembered a shortcut that lay in that direction. Sprinting up the stairs, Remus ducked under a tapestry, with a cry of _'Lumos!',_ hurtled round a corner, out from behind a portrait of Hengist of Woodcroft and slid to a halt outside the Charms classroom, breathing heavily as the door slammed shut. 

Remus dashed to the door, wrenching the handle hopefully, glad that Flitwick wasn't in the habit of locking the door against late students like the Ancient Runes Professor – Professor Babbling – was; needless to say, Remus had found himself standing outside a locked classroom on numerous occasions (usually cursing James and Sirius, and occasionally Peter's, idiocy). Remus crept into the classroom, and slid into a seat on the end of the row, withdrawing his books, quill and ink hurriedly, almost upsetting his inkpot in his haste.

Finally ready, Remus tuned into the end of Professor Flitwick's speech. "And remember – a brisk, outward swish of the wand in conjunction with the spell to silence the subject." Silencing Charms, Remus realised, flicking through his copy of '_Achievements in Charming' _a book with particularly sharp edges (as Remus had discovered to his cost when Sirius had thrown it at him in frustration). Staring absently at his book, Remus was nearly hit in the head with his bullfrog, catching it at the last second and the bull frog's eyes bulged as Remus gripped the frog tightly.

"His eyes are going to pop out if you're not careful!" Someone pointed out, stealing his bull frog away. Remus gaped at his hands momentarily, before turning to look at the bull-frog thief – it was Ormond.

"Alice – I don't suppose I could have my frog back?" He asked, holding out his hand – feeling a little guilty for mocking her earlier. The girl finished cooing at the frog (she was perhaps the _only _person who could _like _or _coo _at a _bull frog_ of all things – the girl was about as mad as Hagrid over magical creatures, and crazy about them to the point of stupidity at times).

"Only if you promise to keep his eyes intact!" Alice returned the frog to Remus gently, cupping the frog gently. Remus felt rather sorry for her – after all, this was the girl who had to contend with Augusta Longbottom – he only hoped she survived the ordeal. He'd had the pleasure of meeting Augusta Longbottom once; and hoped to avoid repeating the experience.

"I promise." Remus told her before launching himself off the desk to grab the frog as it attempted to make its' escape – Alice laughed aloud at him. Alice was the nice, if slightly forgetful and animal-mad, girl of Gryffindor.

"So Remus," Alice asked – she didn't refer to Remus or Peter by their surnames, although James and Sirius had managed to earn themselves the honour. "Why'd Hermione slap you?"

Remus gaped at Alice, nearly allowing his frog to escape _again, _before he stunned it impatiently. "That's a bit of a personal question!" He managed to splutter, gaping at Alice's frankness.

"Mhmm." Alice replied distractedly, jabbing her wand towards her raven, carefully avoiding hurting the bird. "_Silencio!" _She cried, flicking her wand, as a puff of purple smoke drifted from its end, like the smoking barrel of a gun. "I – just – can't – do –this!" she enunciated, frustrated.

"Do you want a hand?" Remus asked amusedly.

"No! I'm…fine! Honestly!" Alice assured him, waving her wand wildly. "Really – I'll get it in a minute!" she finished, screwing her eyes up and pointing her wand blindly.

"Careful where you point that thing!" Remus cautioned with a laugh. "How did you manage to get an O in Charms?" he asked curiously.

Alice opened her eyes. "I'll tell you, if you'll tell me," she chuckled, stuffing her wand behind her ear and turning to the raven.

"Quid pro quo," Remus thought aloud, before agreeing. "Alright."

"You first," Alice propped her chin on her fist, facing him, whilst stroking the raven's feathers gently.

"No fair!" Remus spluttered for the second time – Alice was sneaky, no doubt about it.

"Dibbs second." Alice called, smirking. "Now you have to go first."

"Of all the sneaky…" Remus muttered. "Fine. Hermione was mad at me – because I didn't wait for her at the station and I-" he quoted, "stood by and watched as those two assaulted another student."

Alice stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, before frowning. "Oh."

"So how'd you get an O?" Remus asked, reminding her.

"Honestly? I have no idea." Alice grinned. "My turn."

"That's not fair – that wasn't a proper answer!" Remus objected. Alice sighed.

"Studied hard." She stuck her tongue out at him petulantly. "How d'you know Hermione?"

"The attack on Diagon Alley." Remus turned to face his stunned bull frog, focussing on it intently. "We were both caught up in it, and well…we saved each other's lives. Kind of makes you want to get to know the person."

Alice half-smiled wryly. "Kind of. Merlin Remus, I'm sorry. I didn't know." She grimaced in apology.

"It's fine." Remus told her. "Anyway, I got to know her over the summer – we saw each other a fair bit at least, and we took her to the station."

"So why'd she slap you?"

"I told you!" Remus grinned at Alice's poor memory.

"Oh yeah…" A look of dawning comprehension crossed Alice's face. "So are you two _friends_?" she emphasized the word friends, so there could be no doubt as to her meaning. Remus flushed.

"We're just _friends_!" He emphasized the word friends as well, although it's implications in this case were quite different.

"Of course." Alice told him, smiling.

"Let's see your charms." Flitwick appeared before them, "Miss Granger and Miss Evans have already done it." Remus glanced over at Lily and Hermione who were chatting animatedly, their bull frogs squawking silently.

"Okay." Remus took a sneaky, last minute look at his book, before flicking his wand outwards hopefully. The bull frog emitted a croak – quieter than before, but still audible. Alice jabbed her wand, the raven squawked very loudly, turned yellow and doubled in size, her wand emitting a blast like a cannon, causing everyone in the immediate vicinity to flinch or duck for cover below their desks.

"Practice, for homework, I think," Flitwick emerged from below the desk. "A _lot _of practice."

* * *

Enid stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing as per usual, but glancing around nervously. A group of desks lay in the centre of the atrium, where several witches and wizards sat, bearing clipboards and frowns. Smoothing her skirt down, Enid asked another employee who'd just flooed in, "What's going on?" 

The other employee, an elderly wizard, wearing a purple spotted tie, took one look at the group and blanched. "Inspection." He whispered back to her, before hurrying to the end of a queue. Enid slipped to the end of another queue, deeply troubled by the inspection…surely, she hoped, surely Nott had been bluffing? Her realistic side squashed that thought at once. Of course he hadn't been, it told her, he had been telling the truth, Enid realized with a sinking heart – the Death Eaters had more influence in the Ministry than any of them had ever thought…

* * *

"Hestia." Sturgis Podmore, an Auror in his early forties began. "If this is a joke – it's not funny." 

Hestia, a plump witch, frowned at him. "I'm not." She snapped. "I wouldn't joke about something like this. And you-" she poked him hard in the chest, although she fit neatly under his chin. "-should know me better."

"I know." Sturgis sighed, several days worth of stubble on his chin, collapsing into a chair. "I just can't believe it."

"That's why we're here." Hestia rubbed red eyes, grinding the dirt that smudged her face further into her eyes, but by that point, she was beyond caring. "I just don't understand it." She muttered. "How can a person be alive one day and have been dead twenty years ago the next?"

"You saw her tombstone – you tell me!" Sturgis retorted.

"Calm." Dumbledore swept into the meeting room, flanked by a few late comers, among them, Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mundungus Fletcher – even Mundungus had a tired, grieved cast to his face. "The last thing we need now is to start fighting amongst ourselves."

Hestia bit her tongue and Sturgis turned purple in the effort not to yell at Dumbledore – both had been close to Emmeline. "But how is it Dumbledore, that Emmeline was here one second and then the next, dead twenty years? I cast the verifying spells, she's definitely-" Hestia's voice hitched and she swallowed heavily. "-definitely dead."

"I believe," Dumbledore began. "That this issue extends far beyond Emmeline's death," holding a hand up to silence Hestia, "though of course, our valiant member's acts will not be forgotten. However, I feel that this is somehow related to the incident from previous months. You all know of course, the event I am referring to."

"The Ministry." Molly breathed.

Dumbledore inclined his head gravely. "I fear my thoughts were correct." His normally twinkling eyes were solemn. "My friends, a change is coming – and whether it bodes well or ill, we can do nothing." The Order members were enthralled, some were wan, others gripped the table tightly as if they could transfer their own anxieties to the furniture and Tonks' hair stood on end, so she looked as though someone had plugged her into the mains – the air crackled with tension. "It is as I thought." Dumbledore sighed. "Hermione Granger is alive."

* * *

**A/N: So, a theory (alright, _my _theory) will be explained in the next chapter. Please review, as I would really love to know what you think and reviews truly to help improve the story, so concrit is _more _than welcome! **

**The notes I mentioned at the beginning are below, so if you reviewed the last chapter, read on!**

**Aly Martin - I'm glad you liked the Sorting Hat's song (I worked very hard on it :) )**

**LotL101 - You really reassured me by commenting on the plot twist (I was worried no-one would pick up on it!)**

**WuHaoNi - Hopefully you liked this update - I've tried to be as original as possible!**

**Margarite Isabelle - Novel lengths reviews are _adored, _in fact if everyone left a review like yours I would probably be the happiest author alive (and be dancing round the room for joy!). I surprised myself when Hermione slapped Remus - originally she was just going to walk away coolly - but Hermione seemed to decide that Remus deserved a slap! I decided that Peter is so underdeveloped in most fanfictions in the Marauder era, that I wanted to give him some qualities of his own - I think he's redeemable, or at least he could be redeemable - the Marauders wouldn't like him if he was truly detestable! **

**Lily the Marauder: You were entirely correct - the last segment of chapter 6 _was _set in the future (and it was something Hermione changed)! I was really flattered by your review - particuarly the plausible part! You were another reviewer who reassured me that people picked up on the future part so thanks! Thank you (and keep it up with Lost and Found! I'm a hopeless addict!)**


	8. A Lurking Danger

A/N: To avoid interrupting the flow of the story too much, the vast majority of the author's note (and thanks) are included at the bottom! Please take the time to review - it's (as always) greatly appreciated and it makes me inclined to update more quickly!

* * *

1996 

Silence greeted Dumbledore's words, Order members' mouths agape, before a frenzied babbling broke out. Cries of shock and horror echoed round the room and Dumbledore was forced to issue a cannon like blast from his wand in a plea for silence.

"I cannot explain this matter if you will not listen to me." Dumbledore's patience was approaching its limit and several murmured apologies drifted round. "You all, of course, are aware, during the battle at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione Granger disappeared. You have heard Harry's account of the matter, but it was hoped that Harry was mistaken." Dumbledore sighed. "However it seems our hope was in vain -Hermione Granger is alive and well; in the past."

"But…" Dedalus Diggle stuttered, customary violet hat sliding over his eyes. "Surely that's a good thing?"

"And _that _shows the extent of your education." Snape sneered, lips curled derisively.

"Severus." Dumbledore's tone was edged with a reprimand, commanding respect.

"Perhaps I should explain, sir," Snape added contemptuously, "Why the Granger girl being in the past isn't a 'good thing'." He quoted Diggle mockingly. "Why do you think Vance is dead? Coincidence? Vance is dead because of something Granger changed. Any of us could be next. And you think this is a _good thing_? You're a fool Diggle." Snape spat the final phrase, resuming his seat with a dark cast to his face, whilst a clamour broke out once more.

"If you ask my opinion," Kingsley began, slow deep voice cutting through the hubbub. "There's more to this than meets the eye – Dumbledore?" he asked, turning to their leader, whose hands were steepled surveying the meeting with the air of one who bears yet worse news.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Perhaps…There is a room in the Department of Mysteries, known as the Time Room. That night, a rift in time was created – a rip in the very fabric of time itself. The consequences of such a rift are debatable – but I believe, in light of Harry's account, it opened a doorway to the past."

"Then why didn't Harry rescue her?" Arthur Weasley asked, outraged.

"Arthur!" Molly snapped, "D'you want to lose Harry too?"

"I'm not saying that!" Arthur retorted. "But knowing Harry – he would've wanted to rescue her – so why didn't he?"

"Because he was unable to." Dumbledore interjected. "Harry was unable to reach Hermione – he could see and hear things beyond the wall, even reach a little way into history – but not enough to reach Hermione. And besides," Dumbledore continued solemnly, "the rift was cycling back through history – the window through which Hermione fell would have been open for perhaps ten, fifteen seconds at the most."

"How do you know?" Hestia asked.

"Harry." Dumbledore answered simply.

"But," Molly's eyes widened and her face flashed white. "Wouldn't that mean the rift would close eventually…wouldn't that mean Hermione's stranded?"

"I'm afraid so." Dumbledore inclined his head gravely.

A tense silence stole into the room, disbelief echoed on each member's face.

"But why hasn't everything changed straight away?" Tonks asked, her face tear-tracked. "If it all happened in the past – then why isn't the present different?"

"A question I myself must ask." Dumbledore frowned. "I would have expected it to be because Hermione was _meant _to be there, but in light of Emmeline's death, I must revise that assumption. My conclusion is this: the future is diverging – it might follow multiple paths, and we will follow just one. But it all stems from thiscrossroads in the past – one that hasn't yet arrived. Until then, we will experience these changes – ones that I presume will be the same in each new reality. I assume, once we reach this stage, the present as we know it will shift, and our memories of this past - erased."

* * *

1976 October 13th 

Dispensing with another unwieldy book from her stockpile, Hermione buried her head in hands in frustration, earning herself a glare from the vulture-like librarian – Madam Pince. It was already October13th, and thus far she had found nothing. Nothing – in the entire Hogwarts library, there was _literally _nothing on time, or more specifically, travelling _forward _through time – Enid _had_ said that time-travel was a relatively new branch in the Department of Mysteries. Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes, to be dashed angrily, before they spilled onto the books and thus invoke further Madam Pince's ire. She had been so convinced, so assured, that she would return – it was only for a while, she'd told herself, despite Enid's warnings – that she would see her family, her friends, her _time _again, and in doing so she'd blinded herself to the reality, refusing to see the truth – she would find a way that Enid hadn't, she'd thought. That hope was slowly fading, as the likelihood of finding answers at Hogwarts diminished.

Her realistic side, so quiet when it came to her own foolish mistakes, spoke up for once – she was _never _going home. She would never see her parents again, the voice informed her harshly, never listen to them nag her about going skiing with them or about the mess the owls she sent made, or laugh as she told them about Harry and Ron's silly comments, or give her a hug goodnight before she went to bed…The truth loomed in front of her, terrifying in it's stark realities. She would never see them again – any of them. Harry, Ron, Ginny, even Lavender and Pavarti, who had irritated her intensely. She would never hear Harry instruct the DA again, never lose another chess game to Ron, never talk about boys with Ginny…she would give anything, even just to hear Lavender and Pavarti moan about spots or whinge about their latest boyfriends…

Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder, tossing her parchment and quills into the bag in frenzied haste – she didn't know where she planned to go or what she planned to do; she just had to escape the confines of the library. She'd once thought that everything and anything worth knowing could be found in books, but the library had failed her. She wasn't going to return home – how could she remain in that place? She tore from the library, deaf to Madam Pince's screeches of horror at the chaos she had left behind. Friday 13th, the most unlucky day of the year – apt, for the events that had occurred – Hermione raced through the school, forcing students to dodge her as she sped past, attracting curious glances as she went. She didn't care. These people were dead or _worse_ by the time she had been born – she _knew _what was to befall them. How could she remain in their company, knowing that?

Scrambling down a flight of stairs, Hermione lost her balance momentarily, almost spilling her books and ink on the floor, before she gathered them close again. She struggled to hold back the floodgates and prevent the tears that threatened to spill from falling. She needed somewhere she could forget, hide away from the past, she thought as a staircase swung below her, connecting the third floor to the second. That ruled the astronomy tower out – the place heaved with couples on an almost constant basis – the common room was also a major no-no – the very people she was trying to avoid would be there and her favourite haunt in the grounds, the lakeside, was sure to be busy... Hermione raced down the stairs, and hurtled along a corridor, almost slipping on the wet floor - Moaning Myrtle was in a mood again - and dashed down another flight of stairs, avoiding a suit of armour that attempted to trip her up. She knew where she would go.

* * *

Enid quivered; running her hands up and down her arms in a comforting gesture, foot jiggling in nerves, wishing that she hadn't had so much for breakfast that morning – or any breakfast at all – Enid's stomach churned and she strongly suspected her face had a green tint to it. The panel, she knew, comprised of Euphemia Dunbar, Xavier Harrow and a number of other, particularly conservative members of the ministry – the fussiest, most fastidious people to walk the earth – and all biased in their own quaint way. 

The panel, to quote the ministry's letter, was – 'comprised of a selection of our most trusted employees, who, over the years have risen through our ranks through a combination of their work ethics and their acute knowledge of the wizarding psyche.' Which translated to, in Enid's mind, a group of ministry supporters who could be counted on to weed out anyone whose allegiances lay outside of the ministry. The letter had continued on to state it's aims – hidden within yards of waffle, designed to bore the reader into such a stupor that theynever came across the ministry's true intentions; of course, that had been expected. Enid hadn't informed Hermione of the looming prospect of losing her job – unfair, but Enid's anxieties were great enough, without Hermione adding to them.

The doors to courtroom ten yawned open, a trembling witch emerged, shaking from head to toe, face whey. Enid's foot jiggling renewed itself with a fervour, as she moved up the queue, only a place away from entering the courtroom; the bleakness of the corridor - an archaic, torch lit, black stone passageway - did nothing to relieve her nerves. Enid steepled her fingers together for a moment, pressing them together and releasing the tension, as the wizard with tufty hair from the Ludicrous Patents Office stood shakily. Jollins, she thought his name was. He was the epitome of a mad, Muggle scientist – and a sweet, unassuming man, who, in her first days at the Ministry, had steered round the place, his greatest weakness being a fondness for Ogden's Old Firewhisky – she hoped he wasn't fired.

Minutes crept by, taking what seemed like an age, although, Enid knew, when she took her place at the front of the queue, time would go far too quickly for her liking. The wizard in front of her was sweating_ very _badly, so badly in fact, Enid was half-tempted to cast a bubblehead charm on herself. Only the thought of how much the wizard would be offended, and how idiotic she would look prevented her from doing so. Not that the witch on her other side was any better. The witch – obviously particularly superstitious – was fingering a necklace; the staff of Merlin – and murmuring the ritual words under her breath incessantly, driving Enid insane – superstitions didn't sit well with her to begin with, and the witch's constant whispering was enough to try the patience of a saint.

Again, the doors yawned open and Jollins stumbled out, almost in tears, swaying from side to side. Enid ran to his side, but he waved her off, with an abrupt whisper of "They _know_." Enid's mouth formed a perfect 'O', and she stepped back, trembling. Jollins stumbled down the corridor, as if the hordes of hell were chasing him, pushing and shoving his way through the crowds. Enid bit her lip – what exactly _did _they know?

* * *

Hermione stumbled on the wet stone, almost falling but she caught herself at the last second, hurrying onwards through the light rain that permeated her every fibre, shivering unconsciously. Perhaps going to Hagrid's had been a stupid idea – it would only make her more homesick. The protests rose, half-formed, in Hermione's mind, weak and limpid, overridden by her urge for something familiar; for something of _home_ – even if that involved breaking her teeth on Hagrid's rock cakes. Hermione smiled in remembrance of Ron with his mouth gummed up with homemade toffee, or Harry clutching a tooth (and subsequently paying a visit to the hospital wing), but her smile soon faded, twisting into a frown. 

Clutching her cloak tighter, Hermione dashed the last few yards to Hagrid's door, pounding noisily on the front door – which swung open abruptly, a pink, _wet _tongue greeted her exuberantly, knocking her over in his enthusiasm.

"Fang!" Hermione wriggled out from under the dog, attempting to wriggle out from underneath him, whilst Fang slobbered on her affectionately – Hermione wiped the drool off her robes half-heartedly.

"Hermione!" He offered her hand, yanking her too her feet. "What're yeh doin' here?"

"Can I – can I come in Hagrid?" Hermione asked, teeth chattering, as she petted the docile Fang.

"O' course," Hagrid waved his hand, whistling to Fang. "Sure 'Mione, come on in."

Hermione strode over the threshold, relieved and comforted to see Hagrid's hut was the same it had always been – dish-like mugs lay on the dresser, hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling and a large copper kettle lay over the fire, coming close to the boil.

"So what are yeh doin' out here?" Hagrid asked, turning to bustle with the kettle – Hagrid was among the Order and over the summer, was one of those with whom Hermione had become (re) acquainted with.

"I…I needed someone to talk to." Hermione sat at the table, moving her finger in small circles, almost, but not quite meeting Hagrid's eyes.

"Homesick?" Hagrid asked, black eyes kind.

"Well, I…" Hermione felt awful, ungrateful in a way.

"It'd be unnatural if yeh didn' miss yer home." Hagrid told her, as the kettle whistled shrilly.

"I, it's not, it's…I just miss them so much!" Hermione blurted out, unexpectedly, her emotional turmoil rising to the fore. Hagrid enveloped her in a warm hug, before handing her a bucket-sized mug of steaming hot tea.

"Be careful," he warned, placing a jug of milk onto the table. "It's hot."

Hermione clasped the milk with trembling hands, struggling to control her tears. "I just want to go home!" she burst out. "I'm so _sick_ of pretending that everything's fine, that I love it – my past's gone, my friends, my family…my cat." Hermione's crescendo quietened to a whisper, and her back heaved as she sobbed, the cracks in her façade finally beginning to show. The two sat in silence for a time, until Hermione's sobs slowed.

"Yeh know," Hagrid began, "I lost me dad, in me second year."

"Mhmm." Hermione took a sip of her tea, dashing her tears with the back of her hand.

"An' fer a while, it felt like I'd lost everythin', that nothin' would be the same. Bu' I carried on, even after I got expelled, in me third year – you'd heard abou' that I guess?"

Hermione nodded. "I also know you were set up." She offered weakly.

"Thanks." Hagrid smiled at her. "But after a while, I started ter think, I've got to get on with me life, just like Dad would've wanted me ter – yeh can't live yer life wantin' to go back ter where yeh where before."

"It's too difficult," Hermione muttered, "I can't just forget everything like _that_!" she snapped her fingers to illustrate her point.

"I wasn' expectin' yeh to." Hagrid said to her, patting her hand. "An' no-one else is – if they're a real friend. Yer never goin' to forget Hermione – but you'll carve yerself a new life, an' maybe one day, it'll hurt a little less." Hagrid finished wisely, pouring himself some more tea, as Hermione wiped her eyes embarrassedly.

"I'm sorry for turning up like this and ruining your evening Hagrid," she said deprecatingly.

"It's fine – come down anytime yeh want!" Hagrid told her, with a wry grin. "Now will yeh help me with some toffee."

Hermione smiled – not the most happiest or enthusiastic of smiles, it had to be said, but it was a smile nonetheless, and Hagrid understood. "That would be great."

* * *

Enid flinched as the doors creaked open, knowing it was her turn to enter the courtroom – what had Jollins meant? They knew what? Trembling, Enid rose from her seat, wishing she were a million miles away. Her knees knocked, and the urge to either throw up or run away grew strong, but an inexorable force, marched her forward, through the doors. 

Merlin – why her? Enid wobbled into the hall, feeling a thousand times more nervous than she appeared. A row of stern-faced witches and wizards sat in the Wizengamot's traditional seats, a representative from each department – _at least they were still fair in some respects,_ Enid thought sourly. She recognized a few of the inspectors – Euphemia Dunbar, Xavier Harrow and…was that Augustus Rookwood? Enid sucked in a sharp breath, shocked. She hadn't thought Rookwood particularly conservative – indeed, her department head had always been rather friendly…too friendly, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Enid hurried forward to the centre of the room, perching on the chair, which she knew, if the inspectors decided, would bind her in chains – an unpleasant piece of knowledge. She sat tensely in silence as a designated 'scribe' scribbled notes hastily, hands ink splattered. At length, an inspector – Xavier, she thought it was – drawled; "Let the record show that Enid Jones, Unspeakable of the Department of Mysteries has entered."

Enid attempted vainly to control her trembling, fully aware that she probably resembled a rabbit in headlights at that moment – it seemed more like a trial than an interview into job conduct.

"You are Enid Jones, Unspeakable, are you not?" An inspector raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her.

Enid cleared her throat nervously. "I am."

"And your current place of residence is 54 Quainton Street – is it not?"

How did they know all this? Enid wondered, before blinking and nodding her head rapidly – an inspector snorted derisively as Enid forced out a "Yes."

"Miss Jones, you have been working for the Ministry for seven years now?"

"I have."

"On the 30th of June, Miss Jones, where were you?" Enid frowned, attempting to recall what she might possibly have been doing at the end of June. She remembered with a mental scream of 'Shit'. The 30th June was the date Enid had met Benjy – and joined the Order of the Phoenix. A feather light pressure touched Enid's mind, and Enid shuddered.

"We're waiting Miss Jones."

Enid raised her mental barriers, thankful that Dumbledore had insisted that _all _Order members learned the basics of Occulumency. The faint pressure receded and Enid was able to answer calmly.

"I was at home, Inspector."

"Of course – that's why Stamford Phillips saw you in a bar in one of the seedier areas of London. Would you prefer to tell us the truth Miss Jones?"

* * *

16th October 1976 

Emmeline Vance slipped past a withered hag brandishing a box of what appeared to be decomposing toes, thankful that she wore a disillusionment charm. Knockturn Alley was never the most pleasant of places at the best of times (the best of times being when one was surrounded by a platoon of aurors and the dingy clientele of the alley scuttled back into their hell-holes). Unfortunately, today this was not the case – today Emmeline was tailing a suspect – a Death Eater's informant, by the name of Ludovich Bagman. Probably perfectly harmless, truth to be told, but it was still best to check it out. Or at least, that was what Emmeline told herself, whenever she felt like slacking off, or dropping the chase.

Dodging a pair of whispering, scabby-looking young men, Emmeline swallowed a curse, as her quarry vanished. Sprinting down the alleyway, grateful that the charm disguised her lack of decorum, Emmeline shot round the corner, wand outstretched.

"I don't see why we have to meet here Augustus – surely there are nicer pubs on Diagon Alley." Bagman protested.

Emmeline was disgusted – all this effort, trailing Rookwood's contacts on Enid's advice after her inspection and _this _was what she had expended Order time for – a conversation outside a pub.

"You haven't lived till you've tried the port here." Rookwood laughed. "Listen Ludo, you go on ahead, I'll catch you up in a minute, and then we can discuss the latest racing models."

"I'll be certain to try the port then!" Bagman strode into the bar noisily. Rookwood glanced around the alley, and Emmeline had a sneaking suspicion he knew she was there. Just as she raised her wand to curse him, he muttered,

"Just the hags." Before turning on his heel towards the bar. Emmeline lowered her wand slightly with a sigh of relief.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

* * *

18th October 1976 

"Ow!" Lily squawked, shaking her finger from which a Fanged Geranium dangled. "This is _not _funny!" she glared at Alice and Hermione, daring them to pass comment. Hermione covered her snicker with a hand – at first she had been shocked that a subject existed that both she and Alice were superior to Lily in, but there it was: Lily Evans was _not _a herbologist, although actually, they were in fact, in DADA, learning about 'Dangerous Plants' and how to disarm them (in this case a jinx to turn the Geranium's fangs to wine gums, or some other soft implement).

"Do you want me to try the spell Lily?" Hermione asked, grinning.

"Couldn't you just-" Alice gestured a swift yanking motion.

"Very funny." Lily scowled, flicking her wand. The Geranium's fangs vanished, to be replaced with marshmallows, which slid off her finger, coated in blood. "Thanks for the help."

"You looked like you were handling it just fine!" Alice seemed less subdued than she had that morning – another letter had arrived, to be crumpled in what seemed to be becoming customary. Hermione had recovered somewhat from her crying jag a few days prior, although at night she still found it difficult to cope - what few hours of sleep she _did _have were marred by nightmares.

"I wonder what-" Hermione broke off as the teacher came round, flicking her wand quickly to turn the Geranium's fangs into two sticks of fudge, as did Alice whose Geranium's fangs became peppermint sticks.

"Twenty points to Gryffindor," The DADA professor awarded them dreamily, as the bell rang.

"Well that was productive!" Hermione commented as they left the classroom. "At least we know Lily's not a herbologist!"

"I've known that for five years and it still makes me laugh every time!" Alice chipped in, swinging her bag over her shoulder, whilst glancing at her watch. "D'you know where my watch is?" she asked, frowning.

"The one you left at a Quidditch match?" Lily asked, amused.

"That one." Alice smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "So, do you have the time?"

"Dinner." Lily dragged Alice and Hermione down the stairs to the Great Hall.

* * *

"Freedom!" Dorcas joined them at the table with that declaration, slumping into her seats. "I swear the teachers think that the NEWTs are tomorrow!" 

"Well they _are _coming up soon!" Hermione pointed out, ladling herself and Dorcas some shepherd's pie.

"Next year!" Dorcas exclaimed. "That's _ages _away!"

"It's not," Lily began hotly, only to be interrupted by Alice,

"Let's not have any exam discussions at the dinner table, okay?" she pushed the two apart.

"You quarrel like an old married couple." Hermione remarked, chewing a piece of broccoli.

"We-" Dorcas began, as an owl flew into the hall, flapping it's wings tiredly. "Hey!"

"What?" Hermione turned round, as the owl swooped in front of her, aware of the entire hall's gaze on her - who could be sending her a letter at this hour? "It's from Enid," she muttered, recognizing the handwriting.

Reversing the envelope, she burst the seal, sliding the parchment out, Dorcas craned forward curiously, Alice biting her lip, whilst Lily gazed at her, attempting to appear as if she weren't in the least bit interested and failing miserably. The parchment, blotted heavily with ink and tear stains read:

_Dear Hermione,_

_She's dead. Emmeline's dead - in an attack in Knockturn Alley, working for you-know-what. **Do not **blame yourself for this matter - it's my fault. I would have told you this by floo, but I'm being watched. The funeral's on tuesday, when Dumbledore gets back. **Do not **do anything stupid and do not blame yourself. _

_Enid._

Hermione froze. This was not meant to have happened – this couldn't have happened. She hadn't changed the future, she _couldn't have. _Merlin, she'd been so careful. The barriers Hermione had so carefully erected to avoid thinking about the future crashed down about her ears – she had _changed the future – _Emmeline was not meant to be dead, she couldn't be, she just couldn't.

Hermione shoved herself away from the table violently, a muttered "I'll see you later," before striding from the hall briskly, breaking into a jog and finally a sprint – she'd changed the past.

"Hermione!" Dorcas leapt to follow Hermione, as Alice sat, gobsmacked and Lily gaped momentarily, before shouting after them, as Dorcas sprinted from the hall with long legged ease, following Hermione out of the hall, out of the castle, into the night, the full moon ready to rise on the grounds…

* * *

A/N: This chapter, which I hoped you liked, was more of a transitory chapter (and hopefully, you'll have noticed things will start to pick up in the next!). Please read and review - it doesn't take long and it's more than appreciated (and it'll help improve my writing, hopefully!). **I've just revised this chapter, as it was a bit rough and ready, so most of the spelling/grammar issues have ironed out (hopefully) but if you spot any let me know! Also, Cribellate asked me to put the times in, so if you find it helps, let me know and I'll keep the it in!**

Thank you to everyone who read/added this fic to their alerts/favourites, and a special thanks to all my amazing reviewers(!) (apologies for the short replies, but I'm to be kicked off the computer shortly!):

LotL101: I took your advice and hopefully you liked it in this chapter! I'm very, very glad you pointed that out, or I might not have included it!

Margarite Isabelle: I am _more_ than happy to be involved in long complex debates about time-travel! Alice's surname is Ormond, that's why they call her that! The letter will come through soon...

silvericedrop: I get tired of the Harry-pops-into-the-past-for-a-quick-cup-of -tea-fics too! The last part of Chapter 7 was in the past!

-EHWIES: The fact that you reviewed, and said what you said made me more than happy! Thank you very much

Aly Martin: Hehe, thanks!

WuHaoNi: Yeah, that's were I got my idea from a little! Well, Enid and Tonks were both Hufflepuffs...

Amarthiel: Yeah, Hermione's undergoing a relevation of sorts because of Emmeline's death (and future events...)

Cribellate: Thank you! I've tried putting the times in on this chapter!

Julie: Wow - I'm highly flattered! I'll try to live up to that!

Thread Magic: I'm glad you've enjoyed reading it! Hopefully your questions were answered in this chapter!


	9. Consequences

**A/N: The note's at the end again, please remember to read and review - they're adored! Also, I've summarised the timings in this chapter at the end - so if you're confused about what's happening when, take a look at the end note! Thanks everyone who read/reviewed or added me on the last chapter, and an especial thanks go to:**

**Aly Martin, LotL101, Cribellate, pstibbons, Thread Magic, Amarthiel! **

* * *

The landscape was bathed in the fading gold of a sunset – a spectacular vista, if not for the fierce wind, that battered Hermione as she ran.

How could she have been _so _spectacularly stupid? How could she have hoped that nothing would change – and now someone was _dead_ because of her inaction, her refusal to act, to change things and her stupid, stubborn belief that she would return to her own time. Someone who was meant to have lived for at least another twenty years was dead because of _her_. She'd snatched that from Emmeline, and worse, Hermione thought wildly, sick to the stomach, she had condemned every person whose future was dependent on Emmeline's. Merlin – why, _why, _had she been so foolish?

She stared sickly at Enid's letter, wishing it was some kind of sick joke, but knowing it wasn't. She'd thought doing nothing was the right thing to do, had known it since the third year '_Nobody's allowed to change time, nobody!'_, but she'd already changed time unintentionally – putting her in a quandary – every second she remained here, took a breath here, she changed something. It was like one of those figures the media used to bandy about, Hermione thought, that every time you blinked a child died of a particular illness, but in this case, every breath she took, she changed something else. Perhaps she could - no. She squinted again at the letter, the light fading quickly, the forest a stark silhouette. '_Do __**not **__blame yourself' _it read – how could she _not _blame herself? It was entirely her fault, whether she chose to face the fact or not.

Miserable, she ran again, slipping along the wet grass, falling over more than once, always springing back to her feet immediately, remembering – she bore responsibility for Emmeline's _death._ This intermingled with the grief she felt – she'd known and liked Emmeline, had got along well with the stately witch, whose dignity was rarely broached, and for her seventeenth birthday, the month previously, had even sent her a book on rare charms '_Unusual and Uncommon Charms for the Unusual Wizard.' _

She'd reached the lakeside, the muddy banks just as slippery as the damp slopes, and a misplaced foot caused Hermione to trip over, landing unceremoniously on her bum, coated in a layer of sticky mud. Hermione rubbed her face with mucky palms, smearing her face with dirt, wishing she might wake up and realise it had all been a dream - a false, delusional hope and one that she shouldn't harbour.

"Hermione!" Dorcas slithered down the bank, robes flapping in the southerly wind that cloaked her approach. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What are you doing here?" Hermione snapped, pushing off one hand onto her feet, crumpling the letter into a ball and thrusting it into a pocket.

"Seeing why you sprinted out of the hall in the middle of dinner!" Dorcas retorted, the beginnings of anger causing tendrils of an angry flush to creep across her face.

"Whilst I appreciate your concern-" Hermione began coolly, barely maintaining her control on her anger – her usual iron control was slipping.

"Don't you _dare_ blow me off!" Dorcas interrupted furiously, her hair whipping around her face. "Don't you dare!"

"Why shouldn't I? _BFG_!" Hermione retorted, misery and anger giving her retort a spiteful edge.

"Because I'm your friend!" Dorcas burst out, eyes bulging and her face puce. "Because I _care_!"

"Funny," Hermione fumed, "That you haven't noticed what's going on with Alice then, isn't it?"

Dorcas brandished her wand, her hand trembling. "How dare you?" Her voice shook with anger. "How dare you – you don't know Alice at all – how could you presume-" Her voice faltered, and her wand hand trembled further. "You don't know her, how could you know-"

"Know what?" Hermione's voice was caustic.

"Alice doesn't trust easily!" Dorcas' anger rose to the forefront again, defending her friend with burning ire. "She doesn't let people in past the walls for a long time – d'you know how long it took for her to confide _anything _in us? Three _years_, Hermione, three _years_, before we learnt anything about Alice – you can't expect her to just trust us with a big secret! We're not blind!" Dorcas sucked in a deep breath. "Prying only makes her more determined to hide things Hermione!"

"Well I didn't know that!" Hermione attempted to justify her accusation. "Besides – those letters – what's Alice hiding?"

"I don't know!" Dorcas' dimmed from its crescendo, and she thrust her wand into a pocket. "But she'll tell us when she's ready. Stop trying to change the subject - this isn't about Alice – it's about you!"

"It doesn't matter." Hermione murmured, turning her back to Dorcas. "It's not – I'm not – I can't-"

"Tell me?" Dorcas finished bitterly, "Same as always then."

Hermione bristled at Dorcas' tone – after all that had happened to her, after all she'd suffered - that wasn't fair. "You don't know anything!" She echoed Dorcas' previous words.

"I know that I'm being left out of the loop – as usual." Dorcas said sourly.

Hermione gaped at Dorcas. "What are you talking about?"

"It's nothing."

"Liar."

"Hypocrite." The girls had reached a stalemate, both unwilling to back down and both were determined to pursue the matter further.

Hermione spun on her heel. "This is going nowhere. If you don't mind-" she made a shooing motion with her hand.

"Please." Dorcas snorted. "I'm not going _anywhere._ Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Well I can't!" Hermione half-screamed, exasperated. "I can't explain to you my emotions when I don't understand them myself!"

"You can at least tell me what happened!" Dorcas grabbed Hermione's forearm.

"Fine!" Hermione's control snapped, elastic band like, and she shoved the crumpled parchment in Dorcas' face. "A friend of mine is dead. _Dead, _Dorcas – and it's all my fault! I could've done something – anything – but I didn't act and now she's _dead _and I can _never_ forgive myself! There - happy?" Hermione snatched her arm from Dorcas' grasp. Dorcas stood, stock-still, the blood draining from her face. Then she laughed, a manic laugh of disbelief.

"That's _really_ funny Hermione!"

"I'm not lying!" Hermione stamped a foot in impatience. "It's all my fault Emmeline's dead! All my fault." She whispered, shoulders slumping as she turned away from Dorcas.

"Hermione. What – what happened?"

"She died-" Hermione's voice trembled, as she sat by the lakeside. "Enid…Enid said she was killed, acting off a tip off of hers."

Dorcas waited silently, not leaping in, as Lily might, to assure Hermione that it wasn't her fault at all – and for that Hermione was grateful. "But it's my fault about the tip off," she continued after an age, flicking a stone into the water. "It's my fault she died.

"You weren't the one holding the wand." Dorcas pointed out. "You didn't kill her."

Hermione understood the meaning of Dorcas' words. "But I might as well have done."

A harsh breeze stirred their cloaks in the wind, almost knocking Dorcas over. "Look," Dorcas began tersely, rubbing her arms with her cloak. "You can blame yourself till the Jarveys come home but it won't bring her back and it won't make you feel any better-"

"But neither will pretending that it wasn't my fault." Hermione interrupted dully.

"And self-pity will get you nowhere!" Dorcas snapped, losing her patience. "If you're just going to sit there and wallow in your own misery, then you're welcome to it! I'm trying to help you, but you've got to help yourself!"

"How exactly?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow, firing off a sarcastic reply. "It's not as if I can raise the dead."

"You could try and fulfil what she would've wanted you to do!" Dorcas retorted. "Do something _useful _in her memory!"

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, as if she had been struck. What Dorcas said made sense, she thought slowly, but she couldn't, it was against all the rules...but, there were no rules yet, Hermione thought, half-tempted. No rules at all – besides, there were so many lives she could save. Playing God – it would all end in tears, her conscience warned. She'd be doing so much good, Hermione argued, worrying her lip, that surely overruled any 'playing God', didn't it?

* * *

Professor McGonagall leaned across the empty Headmaster's chair, lips pursed, embarrassed for her house. "Horace?" she inquired, "What do you propose we do about this?" she waved a hand to encompass the hall – the chattering students, stunned ghosts and teachers eyeing McGonagall speculatively. 

Horace glanced up from his meal, gobbets of meat stuck in his moustache – McGonagall winced slightly, but awaited Horace's answer – it had taken her a number of years to become used to addressing her old teacher as an equal. "Is it really necessary at the moment Minerva?" He glanced longingly down at his pie. "Just a little tiff surely? I venture to say there's no need to interfere with the student's dinner, over a minor disagreement between chums!"

"Horace." Minerva's voice was cold, and she frowned at the potion's professor, whose walrus like moustache twitched once.

"Very well Minerva." Slughorn sighed, taking a last mouthful of pie. "If you'll give me a moment."

"A moment then, Horace." Minerva shifted in her seat to face her neighbour, Pomona, who was busily attacking her sprouts with relish. "Pomona?"

"Mhmm Minerva?" Pomona's cheeks bulged outwards, appearing strangely like a chipmunk – Minerva was sure that if Pomona ever became an animagus, her form would be a rodent of some sort. Pomona flushed, looking for all the world a guilty student, caught at the scene of the crime – she was still young, Minerva remembered, in her late twenties perhaps, and prone to occasional acts of mischief in the staff-room.

"I don't suppose," Minerva began, "That you agree with me that something should be done after that _display_?"

"Well" Pomona said, quickly swallowing her mouthful of sprouts with difficulty. "Minerva, wouldn't it be better to give the girl some time to herself? There's no rule about leaving dinner is there? Otherwise I'dve been in trouble too!"

Minerva half-smiled, recalling the incident, where a fifth year Hufflepuff by the name of Pomona Sprout had thrown a bowl of soup in a Gryffindor boy's face and stormed from the hall, only to be found several hours later, sobbing in Greenhouse 4 amongst the honking daffodils. "That aside," Minerva's smile faded. "You _do _remember what night tonight is?"

Pomona frowned, glancing up at the enchanted ceiling, clouds scudding across the surface of the sky – still the full moon was, just, visible. "The Whomping Willow'll prevent anything happening Minerva. Besides, they may not even be in the grounds!" She heaped spoonfuls of peas onto her plate, before frowning at Minerva. "If we don't see them return before curfew, we'll look for them, Minerva. I just don't think it's worthwhile worrying the students too much – or drawing attention to the particular danger of the grounds tonight; it's not fair on Lupin." She whispered the last, looking covertly at Minerva.

Minerva heaved a sigh. "I _have _got Potter in a detention tonight. Let it never be said that Hufflepuffs are without common sense or cunning."

"It's true," Pomona smiled a little. "We Hufflepuffs are often underestimated."

_Very true, _Minerva thought, a grudging respect for her colleague and ex-pupil growing. "The next match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor should be interesting then!"

* * *

"Ready for tonight Prongs?" Sirius nudged James, who scowled into his pudding. 

"I can't, remember? Detention 'til half-nine with McGonagall, for jinxing Granger." James replied sourly.

"Mate – _attempting _to jinx Granger!" Sirius ruffled James' hair, with a grin.

"Same difference." James mock-punched Sirius half-heartedly, before returning to his dinner with a sigh.

"Prongs, mate, I would've done the same - but, you're missing out tonight Jamie," Sirius leant back in his chair, stretching out with a yawn. "That's all I can say."

Peter glanced between the two of them confusedly. "Is there something I've missed here?"

"There is indeed Wormy, not that-" Sirius began with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, before he broke off abruptly to wave a hand in front of James' face.

"Quit that Padfoot." James swatted Sirius' hand impatiently. "Where're Evans and Ormond going?"

"They're probably scuttling off to their little lair in the bookshelves." Sirius grinned, staring after the departing girls. "Merlin Prongs – you're not going to follow them!"

James ruffled his hair, giving the girls one last glance before facing Sirius. "Stalker, I am not."

"Of course you aren't Prongs, I mean, following someone round, constantly pestering them to go on dates with you and doodling L.E. and J.P on their notes isn't obsessive at all!"

"Thanks for that Paddie – postpone that thought, my detention starts in-" James glanced at his watch, giving it a shake absent-mindedly – it had been his grandfather's and although he was fond of it, it wasn't the most accurate of time-pieces. "-three minutes." Bolting down a last piece of cake and a quick swig of pumpkin juice, James sprinted from the hall; with a parting 'See you later!'

"So what were you gunna say Padfoot?" Peter asked curiously.

Sirius stared over Peter's shoulder, smirking slightly in the manner that had endeared him to so many of the girls in the school. Peter gave Sirius a bemused look, following the direction of Sirius' glance, comprehension following instantly.

"You'll see Pete." Sirius lips curved upward once more before he speared a potato. "You'll see."

* * *

"You've got to check the towers Alice – you know I don't like heights! I'll check the grounds, alright?" 

A dark head bobbed upwards, emerging from a reverie. Severus Snape stared as his onetime friend and would-be love left the hall. Check the grounds, he wondered, for what precisely? He felt a nagging feeling at the back of his mind…

"Merlin, if the Mudblood was any more anal then she'd be married to Binns!" Mulciber drawled, twirling his wand between two fingers. "Who gives a fuck about Meadowes and the other Mudblood?"

"The other Mudbloods?" Severus sneered, his gaze wandering over to the other side of the hall, as Black smirked at him. Severus gripped the wand in his pocket tightly, wishing he could watch Black writhe in pain as he cursed him. Still, he'd get his revenge – he knew what their friend Lupin was and better still, he knew how to get past the Whomping Willow, the knot at the base of the trunk – when he exposed Lupin they would regret what they had done to him. Severus' resolve hardened, more determined to expose Lupin than ever. Maybe, when Lily saw he was right, that he had been right all along, she be his friend again. He contemplated her red hair, her fiery personality with a sigh, trying to shift his mind of her – it hurt to think of Lily.

Severus froze mid mental-headshake. Where was Lily going? The grounds? The blood drained from Severus' face – the grounds! Merlin – how could she be so idiotic? Hadn't he told her his theories? What little doubts Severus had held faded to nothingness, his mind filled with horror – Lily, alone in the grounds.

"Severus – are you listening?" Avery asked him impatiently. "We were talking of the latest _developments _within the Ministry."

"The developments – of course." Severus nodded to indicate his understanding, resisting the urge to tear from the table like a wild animal – and possibly foaming at the mouth too, he thought wildly. He had to stay, he knew – to run from the table like an impulsive Gryffindor would lose him far too much status in the house – what precious little he had to begin with. Instead Severus cast his mind back - he had to remember how to get into the passageway, he had to stun the thing before it got on the grounds, he couldn't let it hurt Lily! He thought back to the conversation, of sorts, he'd had with Black.

"_Snivelly, what a pleasant surprise!" Potter sneered, as Black twirled his wand between his fingers in what appeared to be his signature move._

"_Fuck off." Snape flipped the bird at his tormentors, his wand hand plunging into his robes. _

"_My, my Snivellus, such language." Potter flicked his wand lazily at Snape, which he struggled to avoid, but realised he had failed as a revolting taste swamped his senses._

"_Petrificus Totalus!!"_

"_Prefect." Black nudged Potter, twirling his wand again, as Potter ruffled his hair, walking towards Lily and the approaching Prefect. _

_Black squatted beside Snape, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. "You know Snivelly; you've been doing a little bit of snooping lately – a little too much snooping. There's a knot at the base of the Whomping Willow – press it and you'll find your answers." Black smirked, flipping his wand and catching it before he stood. "I'd love to stay Snivellus, but your stench is a little overwhelming." _

_Snape, of course, hadn't believed Black at all – what kind of person would believe his torturers? Still his curiosity had been piqued and after a couple of experiments, away from the prying eyes of teachers (pupils had been banned from approaching the tree after the idiot Hufflepuff, Gudgeon, had nearly lost an eye) and had discovered to his shock, that Black had told the truth._

_He had been consumed with desire to oust Lupin all month, burning to reveal Lupin as the beast he was, but his desire was riddled with doubts._

Snape was sure – he would deal with Lupin, revenge himself on 'the Marauders' and redeem himself in Lily's eyes in one fell swoop. Severus smiled, his death grip on his wand loosening somewhat. He would deal with them all.

* * *

Shivering as a gust of harsh wind pummelled her; Lily grabbed her cloak more closely round herself, wishing she had taken Alice up on her offer of exploring the grounds together. The grounds were far more menacing by night than they were during the day, the array of stars concealed by the clouds that scuttled across the sky. A full moon, Lily noted, feet slipping on the wet grass as she scrambled down to the lakeside. She tried to distance herself from her fear, mentally spewing random facts – anything to stave off the fear. 

Gunhilda of Gorsemoor invented a cure for Dragon Pox, the Isle of Drear in northern Scotland was inhabited by Quintapeds which had a taste for humans, Probity Probes were used in Portkey Ports, Catalonia in Spain was the native region of the Catalonian Fireball Dragon. Lily almost tumbled head first over a stone as she recited, and she pinched herself – she wouldn't let her fear beat her - it was just the grounds, she would be fine.

Lily trotted down the hill, its slopes fading from a sharp incline to a gentle slant, a light frost gathering. No lights burned in Hagrid's hut she noticed, nor could she hear the customary yelps and whines of Fang – still, maybe Hagrid had gone out to Hogsmede, as he often did. Lily shivered – the ground's seemed far less friendly in the absence of the friendly gamekeeper.

_

* * *

_

Remus glanced at the window from the corner as the sun sank below the horizon, far too quickly for his liking. He drew his knees to his chest, wishing he hadn't insisted his friends weren't there for his transformation - damn pride. He dug his fingers into his palms, creating crescent moons on his palms - the apprehension was killing him. The sun lowered inexorably, no matter how hard Remus wished it would halt. He gnawed his lip, trying to distract himself, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Shutting his eyes, Remus wished, not for the first time and what he knew wouldn't be the last, that history had been different. That he hadn't been bitten. Remus peered at the window again, as the last vestiges of light faded – it would be soon, he knew. Soon he would endure a pain no human should have to undergo, but then, Remus thought sourly, he _wasn't _a human. He was a _werewolf._

Remus shuddered, resigning himself to the situation – the more relaxed he was, the less painful it would be. Marginally so, at least, but over the years, Remus had discovered he preferred the marginal lapse of pain and forcing himself to relax, than fighting the transformation in agony. He used to fight it, every time, pray that he had been miraculously cured – it had never happened. When had he stopped fighting? He wondered, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to relax and distract himself from the cold – he never brought nice clothes or his wand with him when he transformed; often, in his moon-driven ire, he shredded everything in sight, and there was only so much a _Reparo _could do.

He unclenched his fists, remembering the consequences of a transformation whilst clenching his fists – claws and soft skin didn't mix well, and the blood, human blood, had only increased the wolf's rage.

Remus stood, staring through the window, a blurred figure in the Shrieking Shack. Tonight, the villagers would again gather to whisper and speculate about what possibly could hide within there. Remus only hoped they never realised that it was _him_. They talked of it often enough, sometimes with pride, more often the profit – the Shrieking Shack definitely helped the village's business. Hopefully they believed it really was a 'rough crowd' of ghosts, that he'd heard bandied about, although there were some other wacky theories tossed around that had made him smile – he'd once heard a seventh year Ravenclaw assure some shocked first years that a Wrackspurt lived in the place.

Light trickled through the window as Remus watched, horrified. He forced his muscles to remain loose and limber, though the urge to tense them, to hide away in a corner and pretend that this wasn't happening was particularly strong. His eyes watered, a sharp pain searing through them, the objects of the room brought into focus, lit by an eerie glow – it was beginning.

Hearing heightened, the sounds of the surrounding world drowned him in an ocean of sound, the pain blinding. Remus pawed at his ears, unaware of the feeling of hands shrinking and changing, of claws ripping through soft skin, as he struggled to stay afloat amidst the pain. Falling to all fours, Remus was lost, drowning in the pain, an animal writhing for an escape, an end to the pain. Scrabbling at the floor, his back arched, bones reassembling themselves into a new shape as the mocking moon shone down, jaw stretching, his tongue lolling and his teeth shifting into sharp points, digging into his tongue, drawing blood, which he promptly spat out, splattering the floor with the clotting liquid.

He shook; fur emerging, and his thoughts clouded, becoming less coherent, a blood lust fogging his mind. The wolf tensed as he heard scurrying footsteps and loping pads. The pain was dulling to a dull throb and he struggled to his feet, eyes narrowed, ears yanked back and tail parallel to the floor. The wolf took a cautious step forward, a low growl forming at the back of his throat.

A shaggy, bear-like dog emerged at the top of the stairs, wagging his tail happily, his entrance covering that of a podgy rat, which stared at him with wide eyes. What did these intruders want, the wolf wanted to know. He pulled his lips back, baring his teeth in a snarl. The tip of the dog's tail wagged slightly, as he approached the wolf, the rat taking cover behind the dog.

_We're friends _the dog seemed to say, bowing low, rear high in the air, tail wagging rapidly, in a gesture of play. The dog's scent flooded the wolf's nostrils, which flared at the scent, which seemed to cry _pack_.

The fog lifted somewhat from Remus' mind, and he remembered who he was, though he bowed to the wolf's impulses. Holding his tail high and wagging it manically, Remus nuzzled Sirius and Peter in greeting, before swiping in play at Sirius who leaped aside, wagging his tail – yes, full moons with friends were far more bearable.

* * *

Hermione sat by the lakeside, half wishing that Lily and Dorcas weren't there, whilst the rest of her was appreciative of their company. She flicked a stone into the lake, watching it skim the surface. It was just as well Lily had come, she reflected. Otherwise she and Dorcas might have been at logger heads. 

"_What are you doing?" Lily screamed, hurrying down the slope with nimble precision, staring at her two friends, who stood wands drawn. "Accio!" she caught the wands that flew towards her, sprinting towards the lakeside. _

"_Give me my wand back!" _

"_Keep your mitts off my wand!"_

"_Not until you tell me exactly why you were about to duel!" Lily shoved the wands into a pocket._

"_Give me back my wand!" Hermione felt helpless without her wand, furious with Lily for taking it from her. "How dare you!"_

"_Lily!" Dorcas squawked, eyes bulging, face scarlet. "I want my wand back!"_

Hermione fingered her wand, shivering under her cloak, as she watched another stone skim, once, twice, three times. "We should probably go back in soon." She said wistfully, watching Dorcas hurl a stone into the lake.

"Probably." Dorcas leant back, enjoying the night. "It's beautiful though."

"Alice'll be wondering where we are." Hermione reminded her, looking up at the sky. "It _is _nice."

Lily sighed, standing. "C'mon were-beanpole, time to go." She yanked Hermione to her feet, beckoning to Dorcas, who hurled a last stone into the lake, watching it sink with a plop.

"Coming." Dorcas grumbled, staring up at the castle, before groaning, "It's too far."

"And you're lazy!" Lily laughed.

Hermione shivered her mind on her warm bed and the fire in the Gryffindor common room. "It's freezing!" She chattered, waving her wand and instantly feeling warmer.

Lily nodded in reply, starting towards the hill, Dorcas murmuring her ascent as she glanced around curiously. "Isn't that Snape?"

Hermione flicked her head in the direction Dorcas indicated, praying that Dorcas was seeing things. A stark figure battled the winds, hurrying towards the Whomping Willow.

"What's he doing out here?" Hermione asked, as they watched Snape duck under a branch.

"Who cares?" Dorcas shrugged, pulling a face, as the wind threw her cloak to one side.

Lily, whey faced, stared at the flailing tree. "Yeah." She nodded weakly. "Who cares?"

Hermione was in turmoil once again. _You wanted to act, _the voice whispered; she'd wanted to play God, and here she was standing on a precipice, poised to act – could she? Should she?

Snape levitated a stick, throwing it forwards towards the knot. Whipped by the winds, it was off course, missing the small hollow where the knot lay by a scant inch, still Hermione asked herself, should she act? Snape jumped over a gnarled branch that whipped at his knees with sudden violence, levitating another stick with speed, flicking it in a practiced manner towards the hollow. Hermione held her breath, eyes fixed upon Snape – _he knew._ He knew what was there, it was the time Harry had mentioned – Merlin!

The tree froze, mid-flail, and Snape dashed forward, weaving his way through the branches that strained to tear strips off his skin.

"What he's doing?" Lily's voice came out as a breathy squeak, breaking the tense silence between the trio. "He isn't, he couldn't -" Snape knelt forward and slipped into the hole, vanishing from sight. "We've got to stop him!" Lily darted forward, making Hermione's decision for her. She would have to act quickly, she gripped Dorcas' arm, breaking into a run.

Picking her feet high as she sprinted through the vegetable patch, Hermione gasped for breath – why was she so unfit? Dorcas loped with ease ahead of her but Lily thankfully, wasn't too far ahead of her. The Whomping Willow had settled after Snape's departure and Hermione wondered if she was being incredibly stupid or simply criminally insane.

What had happened originally? Hermione scanned her memory frantically, flipping through various conversations with Sirius and Remus, ignoring the pain it caused her. What had happened? Snape had gone into the passage way and James – what had James done? Hermione strained her mind, desperately trying to recall what had happened. James had, James had...Merlin! James had saved Snape! Where was James? Hermione scanned the area frantically – James should emerge any minute now, where was he?

Hermione glanced round in increasing desperation, where was he? It dawned on her suddenly, flooding into her mind, one horrified thought – James was in detention! He couldn't save Snape. She had to go in, she alone certain of what lay down there. Hermione trembled as Dorcas levitated a stick, missing the knot – they were wasting time, time they couldn't afford to waste.

"Let me." Hermione scrabbled at her robes, hoping her wand hadn't fallen out as she ran. Digging deep into her pockets, she withdrew her wand. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The stick flew into the depths of the thrashing branches, that lashed at it madly, and Hermione held her breath, hoping it would hold out, that she would find the knot. The stick was difficult to hold on course the wind whipping it madly, almost spinning it. Nearly there, Hermione focussed, jabbing her wand forward as the tree shuddered…and froze.

"Quickly! Go!" Hermione gestured with her free hand, keeping her focus on the stick, praying for the tree to remain still whilst they advanced. Lily tore towards the tree, hurling herself into its depths, Dorcas hurrying after her casting an apprehensive look at the hole. "Go!" Hermione almost screamed, jogging forward, wand pointed at the stick which trembled as she struggled to keep her focus. "Now Dorcas!" Dorcas slid into the hole, white as a sheet. Hermione ran forward, nearly at the hole when she tripped and fell, her concentration broke, the branches immediately beating her. Covering her eyes, Hermione scrambled forward, beating the branches back – the hole had to be close. She gritted her teeth feeling the ground ahead of her with her hand, feeling the damp grass fade to closely packed dirt, her hand falling into the dark. Someone grabbed her hand, yanking her into the hole and she tumbled down, scraping her knees and elbows, small cuts stinging as they filled with dirt.

"Ow!" Hermione couldn't suppress the cry of pain, as she fell to the floor of the tunnel. "Next time, could you be a little more gentle?" She snapped at Dorcas, who retained her ghostly pallor.

"Come on Hermione!" Lily dragged Hermione to her feet, trembling but stern faced.

Lily grabbed Dorcas, pulling her along the tunnel, and Hermione followed, nerves growing steadily – what would they do if they met a fully grown werewolf? Hermione shivered, before she realised Lily and Dorcas were further ahead. She ran after them, sprinting up the tunnel, the dark cloistering and unbearable.

Swinging round a corner – how far had she gone now? – Hermione panted with the exertion, as Dorcas, Lily and Snape swung into focus. Hermione almost crashed into Dorcas' back, but slipped past her to hear what Lily was saying.

"Severus – please – don't be stupid! We have to get out of here! It's not safe."

Snape's eyes gleamed manically, and he yanked his wrist out of Lily's grasp. "It's Lupin alright Lily, just like I told you! I'm going to show that beast to everyone!"

"In hell you are!" Someone interrupted fiercely and Hermione realised with a start that _she _had interrupted, her wand withdrawn. "Don't you dare do anything!"

"Does Granger love the beast? Beauty and the Beast indeed." Snape sneered, lips curling. "Only less of the Beauty and more of the Beast."

"Listen to me," Hermione's wand flew to Snape's throat and she backed him into a wall, face contorted in fury. "Listen to me, you stupid, ignorant, bigoted idiot! How dare you attempt something underhanded and sneaky like this? How dare you risk your life and ours by doing something this stupid and cruel? How could you-" a low growl cut off the rest of Hermione's shrieked sentence. Hermione blanched, spinning to look down the corridor, to the source of the growl, as Lily held up her wand shakily, shedding wand light down the corridor.

Tufted tail bolt out straight, feral eyes gleaming in the dark, pupils mere slits and a square snout and lips curled in a parody of a smile – it was Remus. Hermione drew in a sharp breath, wand falling limply to her side, fear overpowering her common sense.

"Run!" Snape grabbed Lily's arm, dragging her away, sprinting as the wolf sprang forward, tearing towards them. Hermione turned on her heel, grabbing Dorcas' wrist, running faster than she'd thought possible, faster than she'd ever run before, adrenaline pumping, but knowing that it wouldn't be long before the wolf caught up – if she could just make it out of the tunnel!

Her mind was blank, as it had been at Diagon Alley, numb with fear. She forced it back – there was no Harry here, no Remus – or at least, no human Remus to help her. She had to _think_! What did she know about werewolves? All those long hours, researching wolves and werewolves, surely she'd learned something? Hermione skidded round a corner, Dorcas sprinting after her, the wolf not far behind…there had to be something! Her heart thudded in her ears and her legs burned with the exertion, but Hermione kept running, not glancing over her shoulder, knowing that the wolf would be gaining on them.

Light lay ahead – Merlin, light! – and the determination gave her a burst of adrenaline, and Hermione shot forward, scrambling towards the hole, crawling up the slope with fervour – she was so close! Rolling outwards, the branches of the Whomping Willow striking her, she jumped to her feet, hauling Dorcas through the roots, hearing Remus close behind. The tree thrashed manically, straining to pummel Hermione and Dorcas, and she could hear the wolf's scrabbling at the slope, desperate to capture it's prey.

The werewolf was scant yards behind them; Hermione could almost feel its hot breath closing in on her neck, tearing into her flesh. A large branch crashed into her arm, severing her connection with Dorcas. "Dorcas!" Hermione screamed, reaching back for Dorcas as a large, hulking silhouette leapt towards her, knocking her to the ground. Hermione rolled and pushed the animal, attempting to throw the thing off, expecting teeth to close round her neck at any second, but it had already rolled off, nudging her up.

"Thank God!" It was Sirius, Hermione realised, with a sigh of relief, jumping to her feet, withdrawing her wand, remembering that a wolf, even a werewolf, was less likely to attack prey that defended itself. Hermione prayed it was true – if it wasn't she was done for. Back paddling, out of the range of the willow, Hermione scanned the area frantically for Dorcas, desperately calling out her name – where was she?

* * *

"Let go of me!" Lily twisted, trying to get out of Severus' grip. "Let go Snape! Sev!" 

Severus didn't reply, but continued to sprint away, dragging Lily further and further from her friends. "Sev – please!" Severus' answer was merely to tighten his grip on Lily's arm.

"Sev!" Lily tore her arm out of Severus' grasp, turning, withdrawing her wand – she _had _to help her friends!

"Lily, please!" Severus grabbed her, "Lily, don't be stupid – that beast'll kill you. You can't, I – I forbid you!"

"You forbid me?" Lily laughed madly, incredulously, yanking herself once more from his grip. "Get off me!" she ordered.

"Lily, I-" A series of screams cut off Severus' words, Lily's face paling, before she cupped her hands round her mouth and howled.

"Lily what are you doing?" Severus hissed, clapping his hands over her mouth, but it was too late – a large figure bounded away from the writhing tree – the werewolf. "Shit."

* * *

The bear-like dog that was Sirius disappeared into the flailing tree, snarling and snapping sounds emerging from the cloud of thrashing branches. The werewolf, emerged, several bloody gashes on his muzzle, advancing on Hermione and she could see no shred of humanity in his eyes, no hint of the kindly Remus Lupin – all she saw was blood lust and rage. Why had she done this? Why? Hermione's wand hand shook, the werewolf commanding all her attention, and she hoped to whatever entity existed that the book was right. How could she curse Remus? He wasn't himself, he wasn't – 

The wolf launched itself at her, and she screamed, swerving to one side, feeling it's claws rake her side, penetrate her skin and there was blood and screams – her screams. It would be her throat next if she wasn't careful. Hermione whirled round, wand outstretched, ready for another attack, when – something howled. The wolf spun, before bounding off to the source of the howling.

Hermione almost collapsed in relief, but remembered something – "Dorcas – oh Merlin!" she raced towards the willow, the tree's wounds nothing compared to the lacerations on her side. Something grabbed her robe and Hermione swallowed a scream, as Sirius pulled her over to a prone body.

Crimson blood was spattered all over Dorcas, her leg bleeding particularly heavily, it almost looked as though a chunk had been taken out of it…Hermione's stomach heaved, rolling with nausea at the sight of her bloodied and battered friend – but she had to act quickly – who knew how long it would be before the werewolf came back –

Hermione ripped off her robe, wrapping it around Dorcas' leg, as a make-shift bandage – it would have to do for the present, before she heaved her friend to her feet, shaking with exhaustion – Hermione wasn't sure if she was in a fit state to turn a matchstick into a needle now, let alone perform advanced healing spells or levitation. Dorcas moaned, her face white, as Hermione heaved her along the path. "Stay awake Dorcas," She whispered desperately, "Just stay awake!"

Sirius pranced backwards and forwards in front of her, a sentry of sorts. "Go!" Hermione nudged him sideways with a leg – he needed to distract Remus before he ripped Lily and Snape to shreds. "Go!"

* * *

In her years at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey had seen her share of strange injuries at Hogwarts, but none so serious or as unusual as this. Four students stumbled into her office, sodden in mud, blood and water, with varying injuries. 

Forcing the four of them into beds, she was forced to extract the threads of a robe that Dorcas was clasping to her thigh from her wound, before binding it tightly – nothing would close the wound – and pouring a blood replenishing potion down each of their throats. Where was the Headmaster when you needed him? Certain, that for the moment, her patients could be left for a few seconds, Poppy sprinted to her fireplace – she _had _to call McGonagall.

"Minerva!" Poppy squawked.

"Poppy?" McGonagall's face appeared in the flames, puzzled and irritated. "Yes?"

"You need to come to the hospital wing – immediately!"

"Why?" McGongall was pale. "What happened?"

Poppy's face was solemn. "It's our worst fears – that's what's happened!"

* * *

**A/N: This is, quite easily, the longest chapter I've written, thus far! Concrit on how well the scenes/emotions have been done would really be appreciated, but thanks for reading anyway!**

**Times**

**Hermione leaves dinner, pursued by Dorcas, leaving shocked Lily and Alice. **

**10 mins later, Lily and Alice leave, Alice goes to tower, Lily to the grounds – SUN STILL NOT SET – James leaves a few seconds later. Hermione and Dorcas arguing. **

**5 mins after dinner ends, and Sirius and Peter leave – FULL MOON STILL NOT OUT.**

**½ an hour later, Snape leaves, girls still outside, Remus, Peter and Sirius still in the shack (have decided to wait for James). Wind blowing from the south cloaking all sounds NORTH of the girls. **

**Turning to go back to the castle, Dorcas spots Snape. Lily and Hermione worried (both know/have an idea of what's down there). Hermione hesitates, but is persuaded by Lily to stop him and they drag Dorcas along.**

**Hopefully this all makes sense, please read and review, and thanks for reading!**

­


	10. Trials and Errors

**A/N: Firstly, I have a huge apology to make for the delay for this chapter – I was away over half term for ten days and I returned home to find the Internet was broken! **

**This chapter has also undergone numerous rewrites and I'm **_**sort of **_**happy with the end result (I hit a little writer's block – this chapter was definitely the most difficult to write!), so any comments would be appreciated! **

**Also, thank you so much to everyone who has read this story or added me to their alerts, it's great to know that people are reading this!**

**A HUGE, thank you to my reviewers – the advice, and feedback keeps me going when I'm not certain of how I'm doing, so thank you: **

**LotL101, MoonNightLover, pstibbons, anglbby989, Cribellate, Aly Martin, Thread Magic, Margarite Isabelle, Toffeeliz and Julie!**

* * *

Blood. That cloying scent permeated the entire second floor – but in the early hours of the morning there were no students about to remark upon it anyway. 

"Merlin almighty!" A stout witch gagged as she bustled into the hospital wing, knotting her yellow dressing gown more firmly round her waist. "What happened?"

"What happened is precisely what it looks like Pomona." An older woman said, straightening in her seat, horn-rimmed glasses misty. "The question isn't what but _how._"

"Shouldn't we tell someone?" Pomona fiddled with the tassels on her dressing gown tie nervously.

"I've already contacted Dumbledore." Minerva sniffed, her hair splaying out of its bun uncharacteristically. "He'll be back as soon as he can."

Pomona nodded, her only objection a slight wrinkling of her brow, which smoothed as she glanced at her superior. "What about the rest of the staff?" she asked, gazing towards the other end of the ward. "Don't they need to-?"

"We should leave the decision to Dumbledore." Minerva told her sternly, although her voice trembled slightly and she withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket, blotting teary eyes.

"What's Poppy said so far?" Pomona slumped into a nearby chair.

"The prognosis…" Minerva paused, dabbing her eyes hastily. "Poppy's almost positive that we're right, but the flesh – the flesh was so badly mauled it was difficult to tell."

"What were her first thoughts?" Pomona asked hesitantly, chewing her lower lip in consternation.

"Lily, Lily's fine – cuts, bruises – mainly shock. Same with Snape." Minerva tried to hide her disgust for the boy, but failed miserably. "The other two aren't so good."

"What – what do you mean?" Pomona's eyes widened, gazing at Minerva with the naïve optimism that was yet to be replaced by the hardened cynicism of the other teachers.

"Granger – Hermione, she has some lacerations on her side, that won't stop bleeding." Minerva sniffed into her handkerchief, hiding her face. "Dorcas – Dorcas is the worst wounded. And," Minerva continued, "has most probably been bitten."

* * *

Brambles tore at his sides and he panted heavily, dashing between the trees and leaping over a small pond – _where was he?_ He twisted, half-glancing over his shoulder, following human instinct, although he could hear the angry werewolf close on his tail. If he'd been in human form, he would've been cursing – both loudly and profusely. As it was, he screamed profanities mentally, rueing the day he'd been so stupid to tell Snape anything – what had possessed him? They'd come so close to being killed – and Dorcas she'd been bitten… 

He shook his head, increasing his speed – a race between a wolf and his dog cousin; who would win? Sirius ducked under an overhanging branch and turned a corner abruptly, paws skidding on the dirt – where was Remus? He could hear the wolf's panting, close behind, closing in. Merlin – he was dead, could hear the wolf approaching him, he was dead for sure –

At the last second, he swerved behind a tree, the wolf's charge narrowly missing him, and Sirius didn't waste the split second advantage – he tore away, towards the Whomping Willow - he _had _to get Remus down there – he had to make amends, he had to ensure everyone's safety after putting it in jeopardy. It was risky, very risky – and he was terrified, shitting himself, to put it crudely, but it had to be done. He charged in the same direction he had come from, mindful that Remus would have only been distracted for a moment or so – he would be hot in pursuit. Where was Prongs? – The stag would be a great asset round about now.

Sirius could see the faint light, the trees were thinning around him, but the werewolf was gaining on him again, he could only pray he was near the willow or he was done for…the light approached rapidly, the trees were fewer and further between – Hogwarts was vaguely visible. He put on an extra burst of speed, fuelled by adrenaline, speeding out of the woods as a black blur, momentarily disorientated – where was he?

He shot forwards, scanning the area desperately – where was he? – a breeze fluttered past him, his delicate nose flaring as the scent of clotting blood flooded his senses, and the fear drove him forwards, speeding across the grounds. The castle was to the northwest – the willow was in the far north east of the grounds – never before had he appreciated his intellect more that now. The ground flew beneath his feet, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he would make it, he would be fine –

The Willow lashed out at him, with whip-like branches, the leaves on the main body of the tree rustling in anticipation – where was Peter when you needed him? – Sirius screamed curses at Pettigrew, filthy and vile. When he got his hands on the little rat – Sirius dodged a larger branch, prancing backwards to avoid the werewolf – where the hell was he?

As he twisted to avoid claw and branch, the branches ceased their flailing, and in the knoll sat a quivering rat, cowering in fright. It was decision time, and Sirius didn't hesitate – he flung himself down the hole with a manic recklessness, skidded down the embankment and tore down the passageway – perhaps the higher ground afforded by the steps into the shack would protect him, affording him the advantage of height; it was the only plan he could think of.

Sirius flew round the corner, colliding into the wall, but pushing off the wall to gain speed, claws splaying over the packed dirt, his thoughts narrowed to a single point – the Shack.

The exertion burned his lungs, his legs, the slight incline in the corridor forced him to increase his gallop, the incline increasing steadily – surely he was nearly there? – he spun around the corner, eyes blurring in exhaustion – the stairs!

Sirius clattered up the stairs, as fast he could with clawed feet, bounding up them, several steps at a time – before spinning to face the wolf. The wolf's hackles were raised, teeth bared in a snarl, and his back arched stiffly in anger – _who was the leader here? - _he seemed to say, raking his claws over the soil. Sirius narrowed his eyes at the wolf – analysing, assessing – human tactics would be useless here; the wolf had swallowed Remus entirely.

Almost unconsciously, he straightened from the pinnacle of the stairs, his ears turning forward, bristling slightly, allowing his canine instincts to take over – _he would prove himself to be the alpha._ Holding his tail whip-straight, he stared down at the wolf disdainfully, who snarled up at him, resenting the attack on his position in the pack. His pack member snarled, incisors snapping decisively, placing a paw at the foot of the steps – challenging him – his display hadn't been enough to deter the assertive pack member. Rearing onto his hind legs, he glared down at the wolf – how _dare _he attempt to intrude upon his position?

He was losing himself to his canine side – the one thing all their training had warned them against, losing themselves in their animal form, they might never become human again – the dog's senses clouded his mind, sensing the wolf's confidence lessening – now, it whispered, now, was the time to rule the pack, to show the wolf _who _was this pack's alpha. The dog crouched, snapping its jaws shut with an incensed growl –he _was _the alpha. Cringing the wolf narrowed his eyes, withdrawing his foot from steps, pebbles cascading, pulling back his ears. Sirius, in his mental viewing booth, was dancing a victory dance, but the dog –fortunately – was more cautious. Placing a paw on the lower step, he growled menacingly – challenging the wolf's confidence, who whimpered once – his tail dropping into a droop, tucking his ears into his head – his confidence was broken. Sirius advanced, dropping down a step at a time to the cringing wolf, who exposed his throat, rolling onto his back, whimpering quietly.

Sirius struggled to swim regain control, to order his body to obey him – but was repulsed – what had happened? Suddenly, he realised he had taken to his canine instincts too well – his control had snapped. This was, Sirius concluded, a shitty situation.

* * *

Dawn filtered slowly across Hogwarts and its environs, trickling slowly into the lonely shack that stood on the precipice above Hogsmede village, seeping through the cracks and crevices. 

Remus groaned, blinking blearily as the light swamped his senses, his body aching all over – what had happened? Struggling into a sitting position, his arms burning from the exertion, straining to hold him up, he glanced round the room, attempting to take stock of the previous night's carnage. The events themselves were fuzzy around the edges, as if he were watching a film where the reel was badly damaged and the scenes blurred into one another.

His mouth was dry, a wilting plant in urgent need of watering, and he licked his lips unconsciously, craving water. Remus paused, mid-lick, tasting the insides of his mouth – a metallic taste scorched his tongue, somewhat familiar – _blood. _His teeth were coated with the stuff, clotting on his incisors, and he gave a cry of repulsion, spitting the taste from his mouth. Why was there _blood _in his mouth?

Remus threw his mind backwards, into the previous night – what on earth had happened? Fragments of memory filtered through with the sunlight, their clarity making amends for their fragmentation.

_His ears pricked forward as he heard running noises – shouting – humans! Blood lust boiled to the surface, uncontained and he bolted from the room foam gathering at his mouth, muscles readying themselves for the thrill of the chase – the hunt. _

_Whip-like branches lashed out at him, the leaves whispering in anticipation, but he could hardly feel their blows – the humans were so close, almost in his grasp! A shaggy creature shouldered past him abruptly, dodging the snap of his teeth – if he stole the wolf's prey, he'd have to pay the price! He bounded forward, lips curling upwards in the wolfish equivalent of a smile as a scream alerted him to the weaker of the prey, and he sprang forward, seeking to rip, to tear into flesh, to feed the blood-frenzy that possessed him. _

_Hot, metallic blood filled his throat – human blood – as he pawed at the flesh, devouring the chunk he had torn, savouring the bloodied taste. He slashed at the screeching human, feeling his claws slice through the resisting skin, but as his jaws closed around the flesh again, the shaggy creature barrelled into him, hurling him off his feet, tearing the chunk of flesh he had grasped from the human's skin._

Bile rose at the back of Remus' throat, nausea churning his stomach, as his mind was plagued by one though – how had someone known? The sleepy blanket that had encompassed his mind was thrown off, to be replaced with a mixture of confusion, anger and fear. Who had told?

He rubbed his eyes with one arm, grinding the sleep into his eyes painfully – but at least he could see – a motley collection of animals swimming into view; a stag, a dog and…no rat. Remus kicked the stag with one foot as hard as he could in his current state.

"Prongs!" Remus nudged the stag again with a foot, poking the stag's side squarely with one toe. The stag raised his head, blinking dazedly, as if to say –_what the hell? –_ before inclining his head once in assent and clambering to his feet unsteadily. A few seconds of anatomical rearrangement later, and a dishevelled James Potter stood before him, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Bit early isn't it Moony?" He sighed, ruffling his hair absent-mindedly, "Pomfrey's not here yet is she?"

What the hell was James playing at? – Remus asked himself furiously. "No she's not," he replied curtly, ignoring the burning sensation in his arms.

James glanced at him, from under his mop of hair, surprised at the angry tone in Remus' voice. "What's up Remus?"

"What's up?" he asked incredulously, raising his eyes to the heavens. "What's up? Prongs – what the _hell _happened last night? – Why can't I remember anything? – and why the hell have I got _blood _on my teeth?" he spat this last, longing to down bucketfuls of water to purge the bloody taste from his mouth.

James mouth was a perfect O of shock, a baffled expression flooding his face. "What are you on about Moony? When I got here-"

Remus heard nothing after that – _when I got here – _James hadn't been there all night, he'd been in detention – shit, Remus thought. What had happened between then? He tuned into what James was saying, catching the end of his sentence, "You might have been a little tetchier than usual."

"Where was I when you got here?" he asked James urgently, dreading the answer. "Tell me James, where was I?"

"You were here," James replied confusedly. "Mucking about with Sirius – I dunno where Peter went."

"Where's Peter now?" Remus asked, twisting about desperately, as if Peter would magically appear in front of him, with a guilt free expression on his face. He wouldn't of course – if Remus, Sirius and James couldn't apparate yet, Peter most definitely couldn't.

* * *

Closing his eyes, he exerted his will, forcing himself to transform – it wasn't a smooth, natural transition, not like it was for James or Sirius, he thought bitterly, but at least he was able to do so – it was more than he'd expected. 

He crawled under the Hogwarts' gate, feeling the defensive spells examining him, flaring through his mind, before deciding he was no threat to them. There were times when being a rat was useful, but still – a rat! He'd worked so hard, all those months of frustrations as Sirius and James moved closer to their targets, becoming Padfoot and Prongs – and he finally managed it, and what did he become? A rat, that's what.

A dog, a stag, a werewolf and a rat – Padfoot, Prongs, Moony and Wormtail – would they turn from him in disgust, after he took off last night? He hoped and prayed they wouldn't – he needed them, needed their friendship; if he lost that, he would be adrift, despised by all – or at least rejected. Peter had no illusions on that front.

He'd hidden out in a cave he'd found above Hogsmede – he hadn't wanted to go back into the castle, scared to face the reality of the situation they'd all been thrust into – and besides, being somewhere that was solely his, _his _discovery; not James', Sirius' or Remus' – his. It was a dismal little hole, sitting in the crest of the hills above Hogsmede, with its damp, red sandstone walls and the lonely darkness, but to Peter it was more comforting than anywhere within Hogwarts' walls.

It was here he'd learnt and mastered new spells, nothing dark – Merlin no! – but archaic spells, spells that weren't on the Hogwarts curriculum for convenience, outdated spells that weren't as 'useful' or 'efficient' as their modern counterparts. He told himself he learnt them through an academic desire or for the pleasure of mastering spells – but those were lies. If he was to be truthful, he wanted something the others didn't have, something to carry round during the drudge of the day, when approached by some awed first year, only to be asked where James, Sirius or even Remus was – something that was his, and his only. It was true – Peter craved something more. In the future it might be power or superiority, but for the moment it was the simple, childlike desire for popularity.

* * *

It was James' idea to wake Sirius up – perhaps he would know, he'd said, kicking Sirius with one foot. Remus' anger hadn't really abated, but it _had _changed to a mixture of fear, fury and frustration with James' lack of answers. 

Sirius would know, he felt sure, he would provide the answers that Remus so desperately needed. The dog in the corner arched his back, his nose twitching as he woke with a loud sneeze, scrambling to his feet and pawing at James' trousers, who held his hands open palmed to him, in a gesture of incomprehension.

"Hurry up!" Remus whispered, resisting the urge to hurl something at Sirius' head, mentally urging him to change back and prove that all his fears were false. James' patience – whilst long lasting under normal conditions – was quickly running out, as he tapped his fingers against his side, trying to conceal his impatience. Finally withdrawing his wand, he flicked it at Sirius, who transformed instantly, toppling backwards to the floor.

"Thanks," Sirius muttered, picking himself up off the floor.

"What happened?" James' subtlety knew no bounds.

"I couldn't change back." Sirius' expression was dark – and in other instances might have been called sullen.

"What the hell happened last night?" Remus asked, for what felt like the millionth time. A guilty expression crossed Sirius' face fleetingly, before he began to explain…

* * *

It was the hiccupping snores that woke her, that varied both in volume and pitch. Hermione clamped a pillow to her head futilely for what felt like eons but in reality was no more than fifteen minutes. It seemed she'd built up some tolerance to sleeping potions, she noted dazedly, gazing over at Lily, who let rip a snore that a warthog would have been proud of. 

Patting her hand around the bedside table – Hermione grasped her wand; which felt sticky in her grasp, coated in a clotting substance – the cloying stench of which had invaded the entire hospital wing. What was it? – she wondered dreamily, before dismissing it and reaching over to poke Lily, who rolled over onto her side, swatting at Hermione's hand whilst gibbering unintelligibly – strangely enough, however, Lily only ever snored whilst lying on her back.

Hermione glanced at Dorcas, who whimpered softly, before her slack hand shot outwards, grabbing her own in a white-knuckled grasp – Hermione stifled a shriek of pain, dropping her wand - before Dorcas flexed her fingers in an arc and her hand became slack once more. Attempting to keep her eyes open, Hermione leant over the side of her bed, running her hand along the floor. Poking the tear duct of her eyes, in an effort to force them to stay open, she swept her hand under her bed in an attempt to find her wand – and as she grabbed it, she felt the clotting substance, which reeked of the same stench as the hospital wing. Touching two fingers to the substance, Hermione raised the same two fingers to her nose – what was it? Her stomach dropped as she realised what coated her wand – blood. Memories swamped her in a torrent; sleep took far longer to come after those revelations.

* * *

It had been agony waiting for Dumbledore to return, agony to wake up, blink away the potions and sleep and remember, Hermione thought fingers interlocked outside Dumbledore's office, but now, waiting to see the Headmaster, the agony was multiplied ten-fold. Why couldn't she stay in the hospital wing like Dorcas? She longed for the comfort of the hospital wing, to be enclosed in a protective clinical bubble – but more than that, more than anything, she wished she could go back, back to the future, back – 

No, she interrupted her own thoughts, it wasn't home. Not any more; she'd made certain of that the night before. Even if she _could _ever return to 1996, it wouldn't be the same 1996 she'd left – she had to remember that, and create a life for herself _now_ – although she'd ruined what chance she'd had of that, Hermione thought bitterly.

She stared at the wall, unaware of the effect her direct gaze had on the teacher beside her – Pomona, who twitched uncomfortably at Hermione's unblinking stare. Wrapped in thought, Hermione barely noticed the stairs moving, escalator-like, downwards, nor Pomona's sigh of relief – it wasn't until Snape barged past her, elbowing her painfully – any measure of sympathy she had felt for Snape evaporated – that she started, realising that this was it – the moment of truth.

Slipping onto the stairs, her face pinched, Hermione's mind reeled off on a thousand tangents – what would become of her? Her friends? Enid? The future? The ornate door was imposing as opposed to comforting – something that most transgressors probably found, Hermione supposed, sucking up her Gryffindor courage to knock on the door. The polite knocks sounded heavily, gongs to her ears, and she followed it by quickly opening the door, determined to do so before her courage deserted her entirely. Dumbledore glanced up at her, as if she'd disturbed him in the middle of a vitally important meeting. He gestured to a seat, the tense silence and suspense killing Hermione, as she sat down, interlocking her fingers before untangling them and repeating the process; her gaze, however, was locked just above Dumbledore's head, stony and solemn, marred by only a slightly trembling lip, which she couldn't seem to quell.

"Well," Dumbledore began. "The grounds on full moon?" His tone was sharp, sharper than she had expected and sudden tears filled her eyes, which she blinked away quickly. "Your teachers say that you are a talented, logical pupil – why then, may I ask, where you foolish enough to enter the grounds, knowing full well what happens to Remus Lupin on a full moon?"

"I-" Hermione squeaked, and she took a breath, controlling her breathing and, attempting, to control her emotions. "I didn't think," she began, before she babbled her next sentence, almost tripping over the words as she tried to get them out, afraid of what Dumbledore might think of her. "After Enid told me about Emmeline, I wasn't thinking straight-"

Hermione wasn't sure how long she talked for, only that she retold the entire sorry affair – leaving the castle, Dorcas' pursuit and their subsequent argument, Lily's arrival and their talks, of how they had seen Snape – of her conflicting feelings – following him down the hole, meeting Remus and finally their flight. She was afraid to look at Dumbledore, look into his eyes and see disgust or contempt – or even worse, pity. Dumbledore said nothing as she talked; only nodding in the correct places – giving nothing of his mind away. There was silence when she finished talking and Hermione swallowed heavily, staring down at her feet.

"I'm going to be expelled aren't I?" she asked, unable to look at Dumbledore. Though she was less liable to stick rigidly to the rules as she had done when she was younger, Hermione knew that this case was straightforward. All participants _should _be expelled.

"I should do," Dumbledore said, his tone one of disappointment and disapproval – it was worse than the anger, Hermione felt, shame burning her and she felt as though she'd been branded 'disappointment.' "You know all about Remus' condition, and you knew full well the danger of the grounds."

"I-" Hermione opened her mouth, through a desire to defend herself, through guilt or something else, she didn't know. Dumbledore cut her off swiftly.

"There are numerous arguments both supporting or negating your actions Miss Granger," he said quietly, almost contemplatively. "And it is not for me to judge them."

Hermione was confused – surely, by punishing them, he was doing just that. "But sir," she asked, unable to control her desire to _know_. "Surely by punishing us, you're judging us?"

"I must judge the outcomes of events, and in this case, Dorcas' bite." Dumbledore told her gently.

After a momentary pause, the question that had been smouldering in the back of Hermione's mind since her arrival burst out of her. "And what is your judgement?" she asked nervously – this would decide the course of the future, both hers and that of Magical Britain.

A small space of time elapsed, before Dumbledore said tiredly, "What shall I give as punishment?" he sighed, sounding for the first time, the age he was. "Expulsion is the punishment that I would give to a lesser offence than this, but expulsion would draw attention to this entire convoluted tale of woe – ruining the lives of Remus Lupin and Dorcas Meadowes far more than they already have been. And I cannot condemn you for changing the past, unintentionally or intentionally," Dumbledore's gaze was kind, which Hermione found herself resenting. "Every creature, be he human, werewolf, mermaid, centaur - wishes to change the past at some point," he sighed, "but few have the opportunity." His blue eyes had lost their twinkle and Hermione felt as though she were looking on someone far older, someone who had experienced too much loss for one lifetime – within seconds the twinkle had been restored and the deadened look lost.

"What about the rest of us?" Hermione asked, heart in her throat.

Dumbledore sighed. "I've yet to decide – I must balance the punishments, remembering that whilst lives have ruined, irrevocably, lives have also been saved. To conceal Dorcas' status, news of this escapade must _not _reach the ministry – expulsions have to be registered with the Ministry, along with detailed reasoning of _why_. Therefore I doubt I shall expel anyone – if that's what you wish to know."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, only to hear Dumbledore continue. "However, I can assure you, the punishments will be weighty none the less."

She stood, understanding the dismissal, as questions rose to the forefront of her mind "Sir – Dumbledore – I," the words themselves were difficult to say, coming out broken and disjointed. "The future will surely-"

"Another time I think," Dumbledore's dismissal was final, and Hermione spun on a heel, resisting the urge to stay and demand answers. Instead she walked to the door swiftly, slipping outside – what would happen to them all?

* * *

Tuesday rose sombrely and perhaps sensing the mood of the day, the heavens were threatening to open upon them as a small man clad in black extolled Emmeline's virtues, his dull drone belying his size. Hermione drank in the words – but they weren't to her taste, talking of bravery, honour and regard; the identikit eulogy, to be switched and swapped for every funeral. Nor was it the Emmeline she remembered. It was difficult for her to focus and pay attention, and forget that the hatred of Hogwarts awaited her – Gryffindor had lost over one thousand house points, which was probably some sort of record. Not that Slytherin hadn't lost points either – they'd lost just over two hundred points, putting Gryffindor and Slytherin last and next to last respectively. 

The little man continued his droning as the casket was lowered, and Hermione stifled a cry of protest – surely it wasn't over already? – Dumbledore had never talked to her about changing the future, preventing events like this occurring. Perhaps, she thought, she should listen to Dumbledore – he was after all, the greatest wizard of the age – but then again, she thought, this is a mistake. If I can prevent this and don't – then I'll bear the blame for their deaths, as surely if I held the wand myself - I can't just sit aside and do _nothing_. Clods of dirt were hurling themselves onto the grave now, and Hermione was helpless to prevent her tears. She couldn't stand aside and watch the people she cared about die – Dumbledore had to understand that – if this was truly her home then she would do all she could to defend it. _Do something useful in her memory_, Dorcas had said that night. Do something useful – well, she would most definitely do that.

**

* * *

A/N: So, not my best work I know – I've had a little writer's block, but hopefully you've enjoyed it all the same! Thanks for taking the time to read this and if you can spare the time please review; it's really appreciated! **

QUESTION: Right, now it seems far too cliché to make Hermione, Lily and Alice animagi - but I feel they would want to do _something _to help Dorcas - so I'm in a small dilema - what to do? Suggestions are very welcome! 


	11. Introductions and Inductions

**A/N: Just a quick note - this chapter has rapidly expanded, although it's still a _bit _of a filler chapter, but I'm pleased with the developments in this - one warning - there's a lot of 'language' in this chapter (i.e. swear words). Just a fair warning if you're offended by that. The majority of thanks will be at the end (to avoid disruptions!), so take a quick glance there if you're interested! **

* * *

"You're fucking joking." Dorcas glared round at her small cluster of friends. "You've got pretty questionable taste. That's not bloody funny!" 

The tense silence was palpable, and Alice licked her lips nervously. "Dorcas-"

"What?" Dorcas snapped angrily, rounding on Alice with wild ferocity. "You've got some nerve – walking in here and blurting out to someone that they're a werewolf!"

Alice looked taken aback, and Lily was forced to finish the sentence. "Just how much _do _you remember of what happened?"

Opening her mouth Dorcas retorted, "I don't remember anything idiots!" before she blanched and mumbled something, which sounded rather like, "Maybe... maybe bits and pieces."

"What was that?" Lily matched Dorcas' ire with equal sternness.

"I said," Dorcas retorted, "Bits and pieces. It's not like," she continued furiously, "I've tried to memorise the exact feeling of jaws ripping into my flesh!"

"We never said anything about you trying to," Hermione stated, "We're just trying to establish how much you know!"

"I can remember" Dorcas began, building momentum, her voice rising in a crescendo, "Falling and thinking that I was going to die, and I can remember the feeling of my flesh being ripped out of my leg and hot breath on my neck."

Alice shuddered, shutting her eyes in horror, whilst Hermione winced and Lily flinched, taking a deep, soothing breath, regaining her equilibrium before she replied. "Thank you for that Dorcas." Lily said candidly.

"My pleasure," Dorcas smirked angrily. "Perhaps when I 'transform'" she said, forming quotation marks with her fingers, "We can repeat this happy little experiment with _you, _and see how you like it!"

"We were just trying to break the news to you gently!" Lily flushed, sounding torn between anger and hurt.

"Yeah well, you've not done a very good job so far!" Dorcas was puce coloured, close to spitting fire she was so angry.

"That's completely unfair, Dorcas and you know it!" Hermione interrupted angrily, firmly on Lily's side.

"Oh," Dorcas rounded on Hermione, her eyes flashing, "And I suppose you've conveniently forgotten, that the fact that I'm now a _werewolf _is entirely your fault!"

"How on earth is it entirely my fault? I didn't _ask _for-"

"That's _enough_!"

All three girls swivelled to face Alice – in their ire they had completely forgotten her presence. Alice's fists were clenched tightly, her face a curious mixture of crimson and sickly white and she glared at each of them, her lips a thin line.

"I can't believe you three! Dorcas's been bitten by a werewolf, and you're sitting here arguing!" Alice pointed an accusing finger towards them, and Hermione felt about three inches high, the first flashes of guilt creeping over her.

"What do you propose we do then?" Lily asked stiffly, unused to Alice's authority – Alice who was so normally unruffled and optimistic, unquestioning in her support for Lily.

"I don't know," Alice admitted tersely, palms raised heavenwards as she shrugged, "But I think anything's better than sitting around here arguing about stuff that's already happened."

"Great," Dorcas muttered, "So instead of arguing we sit around here being oh-so bloody productive!"

"Don't-" Alice prodded Dorcas in the chest, her face thoughtful and determined. "- We'll solve this somehow – just don't give up."

Alice's optimism, Hermione thought tiredly, was relentless, persistent until the end – and irritating to the extreme. It depended, she decided, on whether you thought that that kind of thing was false hope or a comfort. False hope was one of the worst cruelties imaginable – she just hoped Alice knew the difference.

* * *

Dorcas lolled against the back of her bed rail, frowning. Sunlight filtered softly through the window and in the distance the Quidditch pitch was just visible, the vague figures of players streaking around, tossing the Quaffle to one another. Dorcas snatched her wand from her bedside table, muttering _"Obscuro."_ under her breath. The window clouded over, until only sunlight filtered through the fogged up surface. 

"Nice spellwork."

Dorcas jerked around, her wand held out dead straight. "What d'you want Lupin?" she sighed, dropping her wand abruptly.

"I just came to see how you were." He flopped down awkwardly on a nearby bed, barely making eye contact with Dorcas.

"Whatever's bothering you just spit it out." Dorcas wasn't famed for her subtlety or her patience. "It's not as if I've got anything better to do." She remarked bitterly, casting her gaze upwards at the ceiling.

Instead of answering her unspoken question, Lupin glanced unseeing towards the window. "It's a bit cold today."

"Lupin." Dorcas growled impatiently, fixing him with a glare. "While discussing the weather is _always _enjoyable, I think I'd rather go and search for Crumple Horned Snorkacks."

Remus snorted, startling Dorcas into a grin – she'd made him laugh; well that was a first. "What on earth?" he asked, looking at her strangely.

Dorcas waved a hand at him, "Some weird Ravenclaw kept banging on about them a couple of years ago – it's s'posed to be this beast with a huge horn that lives in the depths of Borneo – no-one's ever seen one of course."

"Was that the one who believed in Wrackspurts?" Remus asked with a grin of his own.

"The one and the same I should think – Lyssa something?" Dorcas yawned. "C'mon Lupin – it's not like I've got all day."

Lupin took a deep breath. "How the hell am I meant to say this?" he muttered, picking at the bobbles under the sheet. Dorcas opened her mouth to chivvy him along, but shut it as he glanced up, continuing to talk. "If you interrupt me, I'll never get going," he remarked wryly. "Just - hear me out – and then, at the end, if you want to kill, hex or maim me, feel free to."

Dorcas frowned – what the hell was Lupin talking about? "Go on."

"I-" Lupin swallowed. " Dorcas – you remember _that _night? Well," he hurried on, before Dorcas could interrupt. "It's a long story, but basically, me, Sirius and Peter were there...James was in detention," he added, seeing Dorcas' questioning look. "I'm a – it's not – we're – they're our nicknames," he sighed resignedly. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs." He looked steadily at the floor and Dorcas felt comprehension dawning.

"But you're…Moony…it wasn't – it couldn't be-" she whispered in abject horror, recoiling in shock. Remus nodded once, eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

"It _was_ you! Moony!" Dorcas whispered. "You're the werewolf? You bit me!" her voice was steadily rising, and she began to flush her customary shade of puce. "I don't understand you! Did you think I'd be receptive to this? Do you think I'd give you my _forgiveness_, and you could skip along merrily? Why the fuck are you even here?!" she brandished her wand, her hand trembling. "Get the hell out!"

Lupin clambered to his feet, looking at Dorcas sadly. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness." He told her, eyes old. "I just want to help. You'll need it soon enough."

"Lupin – I think you've fucking well helped enough already!" Dorcas snapped, her boiling anger close to overflowing. A bottle exploded beside her. "Help is the _last _thing I need from you! I should tell everyone what you are!"

"You can do that if you want," He replied quietly, backing away from her. "All I want to do is help you."

He backed away slowly, cautiously, although he didn't seem the slightest bit afraid. He hadn't reacted how she'd expected either – her friends had retorted angrily when she ranted at them, refusing to leave, but Lupin; he'd just nodded and gone – just like that. As he should do, the nastier part of her brain snapped, he'd turned her into a _werewolf; _this attitude was to be expected! A portion of her that had denied cynicism, knew that it wasn't his fault, steadily drowning her anger in pity. Dorcas fought it, feeling her anger was righteous but…it was then she realised something integral she'd been missing all along, something important…

"Wait." Dorcas muttered quietly, unaware that the word had slipped out, and then louder. "Wait Lupin - Remus." Lupin turned, startled at her use of his first name. "I – come back here."

Lupin approached cautiously, probably afraid of more bottles exploding, Dorcas thought. Summoning her strength, she wrestled down her anger to speak to him. "You're the last person on earth I want to see right now, if I'm honest," she told him bluntly. "But you're right. I do need your help – whether I like it or not."

Lupin half-smiled. "Thanks for the honesty."

"If I'm one thing," Dorcas said, "It's honest. Now – how the hell were Sirius and Peter with you?"

Their story was fascinating, if unbelievable – three _fifth _years had mastered magic that most grown wizards failed to manage. Would her friends do that for her? – she wondered, before realising that she would never ask them to, her pride far to great for her to bend - and besides, she couldn't just _ask _them to become illegal animagi for her, could she? She wondered how on earth Peter had managed it – he wasn't exactly stellar at Transfiguration – although, Alice had mentioned he was surprisingly adept at Ancient Runes.

"It took him a long time," Remus admitted. "And Sirius and James had to help him – they told me they thought he'd never be able to do it. They kept trying though – and eventually he was able to."

Dorcas frowned – it was a side of Potter and Black she'd never come across before. In public, Pettigrew tended to be shunned. "Did you know about it?" she asked, curiously.

"Merlin no!" Remus laughed. "I did start to suspect when Sirius sprouted a tail – but he just said a Slytherin'd hexed him."

Dorcas was deeply tempted to ask how Remus had been bitten, but was afraid to ask. In the end, her curiosity got the better of her – she'd never been able to bite her tongue. "Who – How – How were you-?"

"Bitten?" Remus finished bitterly. "No it's alright." He glanced at Dorcas, who twisted her wand guiltily. "You have a right to know. My Dad had a small disagreement with Fenrir Greyback – you've heard of him?"

Had she heard of him? Dorcas raised an eyebrow sceptically – Greyback was a notorious feral werewolf, an integral part of 'You-Know-Who's' army, both as a recruiter and a terror weapon. Werewolves weren't exactly the best army, as twenty-eight days of the month, they were normal human beings, and on the full moon, they weren't exactly controllable. However, as a terror weapon, there was none better. She nodded, urging Remus to continue.

"And Greyback swore revenge – but my Dad just laughed it off. The next full moon, I was outside – a friend of my parents had arrived at the door, and took me out for some flying. I guess they must've been under the imperius or polyjuiced or something – but in the end it was all the same - Greyback bit me." Remus' smile was somewhere between wry and sour. "I can't really remember the time before I was a werewolf."

Dorcas bit her lip, wishing she hadn't asked. "I'm sorry." She mumbled, but forcing herself to face him eye to eye.

"I've never known anything else really." Remus said tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "D'you have the time?" he asked, looking out the window. "Do you mind if I-?" he gestured towards the window and Dorcas nodded with a sigh.

"I didn't want to see the Quidditch." She bit her lip. "I'd give anything to be out there playing."

"You can still play you know." Remus turned. "The only reason I don't is because I'm not exactly Dai Llewellyn!"

"You don't support the Caerphilly Catapults do you?" Dorcas gasped outraged, inwardly dancing around manically – she could still play! It shouldn't have weighed on her so heavily – and nor had it, at first – but eventually, it had sunk in. To be proved wrong, for once, had made her happy beyond belief and reason.

"Of course not," Remus denied, grinning. "Yeah – what's wrong with them?"

"How could you _not _support the Pride of Portree?" She asked, mouth agape.

"Are you sure that's not the Harpies?" he laughed, ducking as Dorcas took a swipe at him.

"Prides all the way!" She exclaimed. "So, come on genius – tell the time by the sun then."

Remus stood, peering out of the window, a hand shadowing his eyes – he looked exhausted, haunted even; would she end up looking like that every month? He twisted back round, glancing at the far wall. "It's about…half-six – I think?"

Dorcas smirked, flicking her wand. A fiery clock formed in the air for a split second, parting like smoke when Dorcas waved her wand again. "Quarter to, actually, but it was a pretty good guess." She was astounded – how could someone be that accurate, simply by looking at the sun?

"I'm cheating a little really." Remus attempted to smile, but it was rather strained. "At this time of year, there's always a shadow there on the door at about half-six."

_You must spend a hell of a lot of time in here to know that, _Dorcas thought, _I hope to Merlin I won't. _

"You'll probably end up spending a _lot _of time in the hospital wing." He muttered apologetically.

_Just shatter all my hopes why don't you, _she thought sourly, whilst outwardly merely replying, "Great, I can't wait to get in that quality time with the first years who've sprouted tentacles that day."

* * *

It was a motley crew that had assembled in the hospital wing that night; two teenagers – one exhausted, with deep bags below his eyes the other varying between frustrated and impatient in mood – a thin-lipped witch who held a handkerchief screwed up in her hands, a younger witch, who glanced around nervously, giving the teenagers pitying looks when she though no-one was looking and a woman dressed in a stiffly starched matron's outfit, who grasped a noxious concoction, rapping it with her fingers edgily. 

"You're late Horace." McGonagall stated stiffly, glaring at Horace Slughorn, who panted heavily, his huge stomach heaving as he hunched over, attempting to catch his breath.

"Not entirely my fault Minerva," Horace's moustache twitched guiltily. "I – ah."

"Please don't bother searching for excuses Horace – I can smell the mead from here. Poppy?" McGonagall asked, turning to the nurse. "I don't suppose you have a sobering potion handy?"

"Oh come now Minerva," Horace interrupted, red-faced, both through embarrassment and intoxication. "I haven't drunk _that _much."

"You'll forgive me if I choose to distrust your observations on the matter." McGonagall said coolly.

"I'll go and get it." Poppy stood, "Horace – really!" she bustled off, her back rigid with disapproval.

"Dumbledore not here yet?" Sluhorn asked, heaving his bulk onto a stool that trembled precariously as he settled onto it. "The man's timekeeping is atrocious," he murmured, glancing at his wristwatch. "And Rosie had offered me another half-pint as well."

"Then it's just as well Dumbledore settled the meeting for now, or we'd still be here tomorrow." McGonagall noted primly, as Poppy hurried back, muttering under her breath about inebriated teachers and endangering students.

"Drink that down." Poppy pressed the vial into his hand, which Slughorn gazed at dazedly at first, then sharply examining the maker's seal, before sighing mournfully and drinking the potion.

"Not one of my own Poppy?" Slughorn sniffed, offended, clasping a clammy hand to his forehead. "I don't suppose you have a pain killer potion tucked away somewhere, Poppy m'dear."

McGonagall's lips puckered, her lips almost disappearing entirely with her disapproval, and her eyebrows almost flying away into her hair but she passed no comment. The two teenagers sat in stony silence, afraid that if they spoke, they would burst into laugher at Slughorn's dramatics.

"My sincerest apologies, for my lateness." Dumbledore strode in through the door, gracing Dorcas and Remus with a smile to relieve the tension, and a quick perfunctory nod to the remainder of the group.

Silence persisted throughout the room for a heartbeat, before Dorcas broke it, unable to contain her impatience any longer, anxious to know the outcome of Dumbledore's conferences and decision-making, but simultaneously dreading the discussion, as it was something she'd dearly love to avoid. However, her own confrontational nature had never allowed her to shy away from the truth – however much she detested it. "Dumbledore – sir – have you reached a decision?"

McGonagall frowned at her impatience, Pomona glancing sympathetically towards the two. "I have drawn my own conclusions – yes." Dumbledore nodded once before continuing. "Do you wish to hear them? They may require some small revisions, if you help me."

"Now – Pomona, Horace and Poppy – if you could begin the necessary preparations for the required potions without me?" Dumbledore asked, without taking his gaze off the two teenagers. Professor Sprout looked somewhat puzzled at this request and both Slughorn and Madam Pomfrey looked put out, although there was a slight difference – Slughorn disappointed at being refused the satisfaction of his insatiable curiosity and taste for gossip, and Poppy annoyed for having an extra workload. Still all three left without complaint, as the first niggling suspicion – that Dumbledore had not informed everyone of all the details, that he alone knew the entire tale of the sorry affair – began to worm their way into Dorcas' mind.

"Now Remus," Dumbledore began, his fingers steepled. "A crucial element lies within this question; otherwise I may be forced to make alternative arrangements – although I am sure that we will be able to make the circumstances work."

Remus nodded uncertainly and Dorcas frowned, perplexed, her eyes darting towards Professor McGonagall, who appeared equally baffled. "After several days contemplation, and sleepless nights on the matter, I have come to a conclusion which I hope," he nodded to both of them. "You will both find satisfactory. Baring in mind the logistics of the situation, it seems impossible for us to create fortifications – such as the Shack – in time for the next full moon."

"But why? Sir." Dorcas interrupted, belatedly tagging 'sir' to the end of the question.

"Preparations such as the willow, the tunnel and the shack itself are all rather time consuming," Dumbledore informed her, "Are particularly conspicuous and a treaty must be drawn up with the centaurs before we can begin to prepare anything that encroaches on the forest."

"Why?" Dorcas frowned, ignoring McGonagall's disapproving stare. "Surely we can just build something in the forest if we want to? How could the centaurs stop us?"

Dumbledore looked slightly disappointed, as though Dorcas had fallen short of his expectations. "Because in doing so we would wreak havoc with years of negotiation with the centaurs – we have their good will; for the moment. Building something in the forest would certainly jeopardize our relationship - you must remember that is not only our forest but also theirs. And as for what they could do! The centaurs could persuade the less intelligent creatures to reject us, making the forest hostile to any person entering – and also the grounds – and much more besides; I do not doubt their intelligence or resourcefulness – and neither should you."

Dorcas gave a perfunctory nod, feeling thoroughly chastised. "Thus, as we cannot make other arrangements, I propose that we undertake this _enterprise_ in controlled circumstances."

"Controlled circumstances?" Dorcas was stumped – as was Remus, by the frustrated look on his face. "How on earth d'you get controlled circumstances with two _werewolves _for Circe's sake?"

"You are both aware that werewolves are only a danger to humans – unlike their wolven brethren – and other creatures can interact with them, within reason?" Dumbledore asked patiently.

"Oh!" Remus, at least, seemed to have grasped what Dumbledore was talking about. "Sir – are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"If I could read your thought Remus, I might be able to answer that – as it is, you will have to enlighten the rest of us," Dumbledore sounded a trifle amused, but his eyes still lacked their usual twinkle and the serious undertone in his voice had not gone.

"Well," Remus began slowly, thinking through each sentence, each phrase carefully. "Is your idea – that we transform, accompanied…by animagi?"

There was a tantalizing pause, which hung in the air, before McGonagall spoke, seemingly forgetting Dorcas and Remus' presences entirely." Surely not Albus?" She glanced worriedly at him. "It's far too risky – it would jeopardise the lives of -" she tailed off as Dumbledore gave her look which clearly said, let me finish.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said firmly. "Considering three students have spent the last eight full moons in the company of a werewolf and nothing has gone amiss, we _know _it can be done safely."

A moment of clarity arrived for Dorcas and instantly, the pieces fell into place, understanding Dumbledore's idea. "Besides, Minerva," Dumbledore was saying as Remus pinched Dorcas, startling her from her reverie, who in return, kicked him, hard enough to make his eyes water. Particularly juvenile, she knew – but she couldn't resist. "You'll be there as well, I hope."

McGonagall arrowed her eyes at Dumbledore, "That's presuming I am willing to be there Albus." Her gaze flickered momentarily on the students for a second, before she focussed on Dumbledore once more, eyes intent.

"As I said," Dumbledore replied, with a small note of amusement and a sly wink at Dorcas and Remus. "I hope."

"And where would this…_experiment_," McGonagall emphasized 'experiment' drawing it out, and leaving everyone else in no doubt as to her views on the matter. "Be?"

"I propose the Shack – unless there is some particular objection to it as such?" Dumbledore said, "Using an extension charm, of course." He added, nodding at Remus, who had opened his mouth to interrupt.

"So, Dumbledore – sir – what is this crucial element?" Remus asked, baffled, but it was Dorcas who replied.

"It's simple – it's not going to be safe if you reject me – wolves don't always accept others into their pack – that's the important point. You might even chase me off 'your territory'." Dorcas interrupted, with a half-smile and heavily lidded eyes – by Merlin she was tired!

Dumbledore smiled, pleased with her intuition, which hadn't been apparent earlier. "Spot on Dorcas – and so I put the question to you Remus – do you think that, on the full moon, you will reject Dorcas?"

Remus frowned, deep in thought, and Dorcas caught a glimpse of what Remus might be like in twenty years, standing proud, with lines abundant perhaps, but laughter lines most evident. It faded as quickly as it came, as if it had never been, as Dorcas blinked, a stream of tears flooding one eye. She rubbed it, grinding her knuckle against her eyelid, although she knew (as she had been told time and time again) that doing so would in fact make her eyes water more.

"I think," Remus had begun and Dorcas forced herself to listen, blinking rapidly in an effort to stay awake. "That, that kind of decision is up to the pack leader…and, I'm no longer the pack leader." Remus shook slightly, like a cow casting away an irksome fly, which it couldn't evade. "Sirius – Black – is."

"But he's expelled!" McGonagall interjected, frowning. "How will that work? Must we reinstate him?"

Dorcas gasped at this unexpected development, shocked, that this had happened – Black had been expelled? Hermione and Lily had said that Dumbledore had decided to expel no-one. Had they been misinformed, or had Dumbledore merely changed his mind? And did he deserve _that_? Even Snape hadn't been punished that harshly, and a hefty portion of the blame for this affair was his…Dorcas' fingers curled around her wand and she resisted the urge to hex something. She'd disliked Black – that much was certain – he'd teased her mercilessly about her height since first year, hexed people for fun and she'd even been made a _werewolf_ because of him…but she was still alive because of him – the only reason her heart was still beating, that she was still having these thoughts was because of him.

Something in her had changed – she noted – but then, this sort of situation _did _have the slight drawback of forcing you to grow up quickly. Remus' influence was particularly evident, she decided - talking with Remus before had cooled her anger towards the whole affair. Remus was like that, she supposed, his presence was soothing – would she be like that one day? – Dorcas suppressed a snort, sensing it would be slightly inappropriate, but inwardly, she guffawed at the notion. Still, although she'd dearly love to curse Black to hell and back again (and possibly several more times for good luck), a burning ire, which she thought she would possess for many years, searing her soul but she also felt _pity _for him. Pity – being where and who she was, this was perhaps the most stunning revelation of the night. Nobody – not even Dorcas herself – would have expected this emotion from Dorcas – extreme rages and frozen, wooden calm perhaps, but not pity – never pity.

"I suppose," Dumbledore began almost hesitantly, and if Dorcas didn't know better, she would've sworn that Dumbledore was surprised – shocked even. "That we shall have to do something about that."

* * *

The Hogshead, Sirius had quickly discovered, was an interesting place, if you weren't inclined to be shocked at the clientele nor its squalor. Aberforth, the barkeep, was a taciturn man, reticent and surly the majority of the time, cutting the rest. Still, it was a good place to distract yourself, despite its close proximity to Hogwarts. He rubbed a dirty glass half-heartedly with a cloth, but the dirt was compressed into the veins of the glass, deep cracks that should have drink slopping out of its sides by all rights. 

The Ministry hadn't been to snap his wand yet – that was some small mercy. A large muggle bridge just outside of London had exploded the other day, hurling debris and soot up to a mile into the air and littering its surroundings with rubble – a Deatheater attack no doubt, but at any rate, it meant Sirius was safe – for the moment.

He'd contemplated running away at one point – transforming and taking off into the wilds, but he knew he couldn't do that – his pride, the only thing he had left, and it was severely depleted, wouldn't allow him, nor would his sense of honour – he would except the outcome no matter what. The dreaded howler from the Potters hadn't arrived either, but it was only a matter of time – after his expulsion was made public, it would be only a matter of seconds – he'd have disappointed them so much, he thought. It had never mattered to him before now, but then again, you can only be expelled once.

"Boy." Aberforth was gruff at the best of times, and it had taken Sirius a while to get used to the smell of goat that followed him about. "Get over 'ere. You've got a message."

"I don't want it." Sirius didn't want any contact with anyone else – Merlin knew, it could only be bad.

"Now boy!" Aberforth barked and Sirius scuttled over, red-faced, but unwilling to bait the wizard. Aberforth had turned him into a goat on his first night here, and Sirius wasn't willing to run the risk again. A grubby letter was thrust into his hands, which Sirius, after a moment's hesitation, tore open, unable to contain his anxiety.

"What's it say?" Aberforth asked, plainly curious, after Sirius had scanned the page a few times.

"Dumbledore wants to meet me," Sirius glanced up, confused, angry and afraid. "He wants to make a deal." Aberforth's face closed up at the mention of Dumbledore, and with a heavy grunt, he spun around, stalking back behind the bar.

"Well, c'mon boy!" he snapped, after Sirius had scrawled a reply on the back, attaching it to the owl Aberforth had chucked at him. "Come 'n help me serve the customers!"

* * *

Hermione glanced up as Lily threw a book down in frustration, squawking, "We've been looking through the library for days, and there's _nothing_, nothing at all! This is useless!" She folded her arms over her chest, glaring angrily at the pile of books that lay in front of her, as though they'd committed some grave offence. 

"There's got to be _something_!" Hermione argued back, carefully marking her place in the book she was looking through, and shutting it. "Surely!"

Alice blew upwards, levitating her fringe. "It doesn't make sense," She agreed. "You'd have thought there'd at least be _one_ idea for a solution in here."

"It's not a lack of information that's the problem," Hermione frowned. "We've found plenty of those – it's just we haven't found any viable solutions."

A thought nagged the back of Hermione's mind, swirling and eddying in the deepest depths of her mind, difficult to reach and even more difficult to ignore. There were methods, things she'd heard – in the future of course…Wolfsbane – that had been invented by Marcus Belby in 1987, but she didn't want to make it herself – to steal his life's work was just wrong, whichever way you put it, and besides, she'd never made it before – suppose she got it wrong?...however, was there anything wrong with simply…speeding up the progress? She could contact him; give him a few notes and ideas. Thank Morgana that Belby was already reasonably well known – that would give her an excuse for writing to him…but there was something else, something she should know, but couldn't quite grasp – it was there she knew, just waiting to emerge, and when it did – she would be waiting.

* * *

Sirius clutched a bottle of butterbeer, in a small shop, down a side street in Hogsmede, which he'd never seen before. He would have liked something a little stronger before meeting Dumbledore – a couple of hundred firewhiskys perhaps. Being drunk out of his mind was a state that currently seemed rather appealing. 

The waitress – who looked at least forty, had bad teeth and peroxide blonde hair – had winked at him as he'd ordered, and Sirius perhaps out of sheer habit or nerve, had encouraged her – and now as she kept popping over to him 'to see how he was', bending low and giving him an eyeful of cleavage, which although he could appreciate, was hardly in the mood to.

"Sorry, love," he winked cheekily. "The mood's just not there today."

"Maybe another time," the waitress looked him over again.

"Maybe." He nodded, dismissing her, before turning back to stare into his butterbeer, and nearly jumping out of his skin. Dumbledore stood before him.

"Enjoying yourself?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow disdainfully.

"Not really," Sirius replied truthfully, wishing that Dumbledore would tell they were going elsewhere.

"Just a minute." He strode over to the waitress, muttering something that Sirius couldn't hear, a quick and whispered conversation, which was over before Sirius knew it, Dumbledore returning and hauling him to his feet with surprising strength, as Sirius slopped butterbeer everywhere. "Penelope's a rather good friend of mine – there's a room where we can discuss _this_ in private." Dumbledore said stiffly slipping under the counter, as Sirius tried not to clear a pretty disturbing mental image. He watched, his anxiety growing, as Dumbledore yanked a tattered poster of an old band off the wall, tapping the empty space with his wand three times. Sirius watched flabbergasted as the wall shifted, rippling underneath to form a door – just as it had Diagon Alley.

"Well come on then." Dumbledore strode through the door and Sirius hurried after him, clutching his wand tightly for comfort. The room was revealed to be of a much grander order than the café, with comfy chairs and drapes, which reminded Sirius of his own home, stifling and oppressive in its splendour. Dumbledore settled himself at the head of a table gesturing for Sirius to join him.

"I'm not going to bother dredging up in detail every reason you were expelled, Sirius." Dumbledore began, and he frowned as Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. "As we both know precisely why you were. However circumstances have arisen which I must discuss with you." Dumbledore heaved a heavy sigh, and the anxiety in Sirius' chest tightened. "Your foolishness, your betrayal of your friend's trust for a _prank_, caused your expulsion. However," he continued, and Sirius leant forward hopefully. "I am willing to allow you back to Hogwarts – on several conditions. You must be present for Dorcas' transformation, and all subsequent ones, I should think – Remus will be able to lend her his experience and comfort – but without the pack leader there-"

"He may chase her away." Sirius finished, understanding Dumbledore's meaning. "And as _I'm _the pack leader you need me there to accept her."

"Correct. Secondly, you must obey Minerva's instructions to the letter on the night – one toe out of line, and your expulsion will be final. You shall receive a different punishment in school of course…Finally; it is my wish for you to join the Order when you leave school." Dumbledore interlocked his finger and sat back, calmly awaiting Sirius' reply.

Sirius was enthused – a return to Hogwarts and he could join the Order, the elite fighting against Dumbledore? It sounded too good to be true. He didn't pause to think that perhaps it was, instead jumping at the chance to return to Hogwarts – a hope he'd given up cherishing." What do I have to do?"

"You will report to the Order the conditions within the school, regarding House enmities, particular problems and suspect Deatheaters. However, your main duty is to detail every nook and cranny of the castle and make it defensible."

Sirius listened, drinking in Dumbledore's words, before he frowned. "But Voldemort wouldn't attack Hogwarts…would he?"

Dumbledore gave him a penetrating look and Sirius started. But why would Voldemort want to attack Hogwarts? What possibly could lie at Hogwarts for him?

"For the moment you don't need to know – suffice to say that a possibility exists. You wouldn't be working on your own of course – Mister Snape will be aiding you in this."

"What?" Sirius spluttered, jumping to his feet. "Dumbledore - Snape and I have hated each other since day one - you can't possibly expect -" his voice tailed off under Dumbledore's pointed look, but Sirius rallied his spirits and continued, "You don't understand sir - Snivelly - Snape, is the most revolting piece of Deatheater trash to ever surface from it's lair!"

"If you don't refrain from these accusations then I am afraid I will be forced to withdraw my offer entirely. I am aware that you both harbour a dislike for one another Sirius, and I am not expecting you to like one another. I am asking you to work together."

Sirius was dumbstruck – in hell would he work and be _polite _to _Snape_ of all people – it was an impossible task. Dumbledore had truly gone off his rocker. He quickly amended that last thought as Dumbledore fixed his piercing gaze on Sirius, who gulped, but stood his ground. He could not work with Snape – he would not –

"I am asking you both to behave as adults and co-operate – is that truly too great a task?" Dumbledore asked, "Neither can do this task on your own, and a partner will help."

Sirius slumped, "And I can't go back to Hogwarts otherwise?" he asked, knowing the answer before Dumbledore said it – yes. It was almost worth _not _going back to Hogwarts, if he had to work with Snivelly of _all _people!

"No, I'm afraid not." Dumbledore looked stern, "Are you willing to accept these terms?"

Am I willing to accept them? - Sirius thought, eyeing Dumbledore thoughtfully. To work alongside Snape was a painful, unbearable thought, but if he couldn't return to Hogwarts otherwise…he couldn't imagine a life expelled from Hogwarts, didn't want to. He pictured the disgrace, the embarrassment and the shame from all he knew and many he didn't. Was it worth it? – he wouldn't see James if he didn't attend Hogwarts – or worse still, he would see him in the holidays, when James came home, subject to anger and icy treatment, and be forced to watch as James grew into a real wizard, whilst he watched from the sidelines – he couldn't live with that. "I accept. How do we seal the agreement?"

"An Unbreakable Vow, should suffice, I think." Dumbledore leant forward. "Have you weighed your every thought, every possible outcome?"

An Unbreakable Vow? Sirius' confidence in proceeding faltered momentarily – he'd heard about Unbreakable Vows – if you broke one, you died – was it worth forming one in order to return to Hogwarts? He remembered his fate if he didn't return with a wince – even an Unbreakable Vow was worth that. He nodded, eager to escape Dumbledore's piercing gaze and disapproving tones, to walk back into Hogwarts and return home – Unbreakable Vow or no. "Very well then," Dumbledore replied. "Penelope?" he called, and after a slight pause, the waitress entered the room.

"Sweet Circe I hate this!" Penelope waved at Sirius who watched, astonished as she stuck her tongue out and wriggled her nose, concentrating, straining as if to remember something. Her face shifted and changed under her skin, wrinkles evaporating, skin rippling, almost bursting through the seams and Sirius flinched. A few seconds later a younger woman stood before him, her hands on her hips as she frowned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Everything still here?" she asked.

"You appear to have retained everything this time. Sirius, meet Penelope." Dumbledore introduced them without smiling, but an amused gleam lingered in his eyes. Sirius almost flushed – embarrassed, but recovered his equilibrium and his confidence, quickly.

"Sorry about before," He apologised, "If I'd been aware-"

"But you weren't." Penelope extended a hand. "I'm Pen."

"Are you-" Sirius asked, unsure of whether he was asking if she was a member of the Order, or how she did that. Fortunately, Penelope – Pen – seemed to have anticipated those questions.

"I'm a member of the Order – yes. Unfortunately I'm stuck as a liaison for the moment," She grimaced, leaving Sirius in no doubt as to her opinion on _that_. "And I'm also a metamorphmagus – it means I can change my appearance at will – so no, I'm not really forty – I'm thirty one in January. You'll be reporting to me."

Sirius grinned. "So you can change your appearance to – anything? That could make for some interesting times -" he broke off as Pen flashed him an irritated glance

"Mhmm." Pen nodded, and her white blonde bob shrunk rapidly into her skull, turning a noxious shade of green, before spiking itself into a Mohican. A few seconds later, she changed it back, concentrating furiously her tongue poking out of her mouth. "You needed me sir?"

"We need to form an Unbreakable Vow." Dumbledore nodded. "Would you be our Bonder, Pen?"

"Not a problem." Pen withdrew her wand, giving it a quick flick. "Looks okay – I haven't done one of these in a while."

Sirius grasped Dumbledore's right hand, watching apprehensively as Pen lowered her wand to the link between the joined hands. After a brief pause, it was Dumbledore who spoke.

"Do you, Sirius, consent to watch over, and accept Dorcas during her transformation?"

"I will," said Sirius, and a thin fork of brilliant flame issued from Pen's wand, twining it's way around their linked hands.

"Will you accept, and follow Minerva's orders during the night of the full moon, whilst she accompanies, to the best of your ability?"

"I will," Sirius said, watching entranced, as another flame of tongue wound from the wand, interlinking with the first to form a delicate, fiery chain.

"Will you join the Order as a full member, upon leaving Hogwarts, and whilst in Hogwarts, strengthen its defences and discover as many aspects of the school as possible?"

"I will."

"And will you, Sirius Black, co-operate with Severus Snape, and aid him and accept his aid, in your work, to the best of your ability?"

There was a momentary pause, as Sirius struggled with the idea. Pen stared down at him, confused, whilst opposite him, Dumbledore looked on solemnly. "I will."

A final fiery tendril crept from the wand, linking the others and binding Sirius inextricably, to Dumbledore, to the Order and to the Light.

* * *

**A/N: So for this chapter, I forced myself to sit down and make myself see where this story was going, which resulted in several changes, which may have been apparent in this chapter - the upside being I now (pretty much) know precisely where it's going (although it may be subject to change)!**

**Anyway, thanks so much everyone for all the ideas and advice on the last chapter: I _have_ come up with my plan, I haven't quite revealed it yet...but feel free to guess!**

**As always, thanks to everyone who's read this fic so far, added me to your alerts etc. but as always especially my reviewers, whose reviews keep me going and make me aspire to be a better writer!**

**LotL101: Your review about Dorcas' reaction inspired the opening (well, majority) of this chapter, so a huge thank you - as this chapter wouldn't be like this without you!**

**WuHaoNi: The future will be coming soon, I promise (possibly even in the next chapter), as I haven't shown enough of it recently, but unfortunately, these last chapters have been really dominated by the events in the past. However, I hope I'll be able to include it soon!**

**Miss.Moonstar: I really liked that idea, but I felt it was a little overused, but to be truthful, I'd almost forgotten about Wolfsbane, so thanks to you (and Thread Magic) I've included it - although whether Belby will reply must wait to be seen...**

**MoonNightLover: I'd love to make them animagi, but my thoughts on this are concrete - but I can't tell you as it'll spoil stuff! However, I can say, that if they do become animagi, it'll take them a long time (several years), so that might put them off a little. **

**Aly Martin: Suggestions don't matter particuarly, I'm just glad to know that people read this and are happy with it (as that makes me happy that I'm doing a decent job on this!) **

**suisei no mitsukai: Wow, you practically went through all the pro's and con's I did - and I have to admit, one of your thoughts really influenced this chapter ('asking for a fight') so a HUGE thank you there! I'm really flattered that you're reading my story, especially because of all the pitfalls of time-travel fics, and as I said before, I haven't abandoned the future (or Enid) - they've simply had to take a backseat for a while, as the events in the past take centre stage, but the next chapter, should (hopefully) include it.**

**Thread Magic: As I mentioned before, my thoughts on Wolfsbane hadn't really evolved that much, but I decided to include it in the end, so thank you, and hopefully you like this update!**

**Enough of my rambling !**


	12. In Which Things Come to Head

**A/N: A huge apology for the delay in writing this chapter: my only excuse is that I've had three exams to practice/study for in one week! The thanks are at the end, as before, but a quick thanks to all the reviewers and readers. This chapter is a marathon, in an attempt to make up for the delay. It jumps around a lot(just to let you know)! Hopefully, you'll like it - enjoy!**

_

* * *

'Thursday November 2nd 1996_

_The Daily Times_

_Countrywide Disappearances:_

_Who's to Blame?_

_By Olivia Ridge_

_Throughout the country, panic has been spreading, as various different citizens, with no apparent connection are 'disappearing' into thin air – only for their graves, apparently from years ago, to be later found. The latest victim of this mysterious syndrome is one Mary Horridge-'_

"Even the muggles are noticing, sir," Oscar Quibb, junior secretary to the newest Minister of Magic – Rufus Scrimgeour, stood trembling. "And the Prophet's just sent a letter," he handed this to the Minister with a sense of foreboding, the typical flamboyant purple ink of 'The Prophet' scrawled all over the letter. "They say-"

"I know what they're saying Quibb." Scrimgeour replied coolly. "Strangely enough, I'm capable of reading. How much do they want?"

The young wizard swallowed, feeling as though his head lay on an imaginary chopping block. "1000 Galleons."

Scrimgeour massaged his brow. "Get onto it, Quibb, immediately. If there's a hint of these goings on, I'll know who's to blame. There's enough hysteria already - we don't need anymore."

"There's also that report from the Department of Mysteries, sir." Quibb withdraw a more sombre looking document from his briefcase, his palms sweating, almost leaving grease marks behind on the parchment.

For the first time since Quibb had entered the room, Scrimgeour glanced upwards, locking gazes with Quibb, his eyes calculating. "Oh really?" He snatched the paper from Quibb, who jumped back in shock. Scrimgeour scanned the opening page briefly, before he seemed to remember Quibb's presence; immediately snapping the dossier shut, and fixing his gaze once more upon his junior secretary, before frowning at his incompetence.

"Well? Is there anything else?"

Quibb shook his head rapidly, his jowls quivering both through fear and the speed of his shakes. "I'll need Fudge, Quibb."

"Fudge, sir?" Quibb asked, without thinking. "Whatever for?"

Scrimgeour fixed Quibb with a withering glare. "To do his job." He replied waspishly, as Quibb sensing that heads would roll soon – specifically, his – backed out of the room, with a polite mumble of, 'Yes sir, of course.'

_

* * *

November 2nd 1976_

"Potter, Lupin." McGonagall stood primly at the entrance way to Dungeon five, her arms folded and lips pursed – her mood was evidently particularly sour. "Clean yourselves up," she sniffed, "and come straight to my office afterwards."

James straightened abruptly, stretching backwards as McGonagall left. "Wonder what this meeting's for?" he asked aloud, throwing his scourer with a Chaser's perfect aim into a nearby cauldron.

"I have a pretty good idea," Remus murmured, withdrawing his wand gratefully to clean both himself and the cauldrons – who'd known that the third years could botch a potion so thoroughly?

"What is it Moony?" James asked after a momentary pause, picking at a piece of green slime with one finger. Remus' head shot up, and belatedly, James remembered why it probably wasn't such a good idea to call Remus by his nickname. "Sorry - Remus. So what is it then?"

* * *

Peter knelt on the floor, rubbing the nearest trophy with a dirty cloth, absentmindedly polishing the words _'Service to the School'_ repeatedly. Sirius stood at the other end, and Peter could almost sense him moving restlessly, even with his back turned to him. He felt a strange kind of _triumph_, of sorts, although he was as much an outcast as the others – but better an outcast than a traitor, like Sirius. 

"Wormy, do you have the time?" The tense silence that had hung across the entire proceedings thus far was broken, as Sirius spun round.

Peter glanced at his watch, giving it a quick shake. "It's half-past eight, I think, Sirius. Why?"

Sirius winced slightly, almost imperceptibly, throwing down his cloth. "Shit." He muttered. "We're late."

"Late for what?" Peter asked, scrambling to his feet, the blackened cloth lying limply in his hand. "Late for what Sirius?" he repeated, trailing after Sirius across the room.

"A meeting with McGonagall." Sirius replied without turning round, striding slightly faster, weaving in and out through the trophy room, and slamming the visor down of a suit of armour that attempted to trip him up.

"Oh," Peter glanced at his watch again, giving it a hopeful rattle – it still read eight thirty; no such luck. "That meeting." You never knew - one day Sirius might be back in favour – it paid to keep in with the influential, even the fallen influential, Peter thought – it might benefit you in unexpected ways. The door slammed, marking Sirius' exit, and Peter broke into a lumbering jog, opening the door with a call of "Wait for me!"

* * *

Hermione and Lily were forced to quick march Dorcas down the stairs in order for them to get to the meeting on time – both Hermione and Lily were surprised that they had been invited, but had soon deduced that Dumbledore would prefer them to receive the details first hand, as opposed to a garbled report from Dorcas - needless to say, Dorcas' objections to going to this meeting were both loud and prolonged. 

Thank Merlin they only had to three floors to travel, Hermione thought, as Lily led them through a shortcut. She'd had enough of hexes, jinxes, dark mutters and glares thrown her way to last her a lifetime, but at least this time – as opposed to her first year – there were more them involved, and therefore the curses were spread more thinly – and it wasn't as if Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were upset – on the contrary, they were over the moon.

Tripping over a loose stone, she barely regained her balance in time, clutching at the statue of Deliah the Diabolical, who screeched profusely, and tried to punch Hermione in the nose.

"Why do we have a statue venerating a traitor in the school?" she muttered through gritted teeth, rubbing her nose and hurrying after Lily and Dorcas, the latter of whom was struggling to suppress her giggles.

"I don't know!" Lily snapped, "But I do know we're going to be late!"

Hermione glanced at Lily, startled by her display of temper, before shrugging it off – the strain of recent events was affecting them all. Dorcas looked taken aback, her giggles ending abruptly – her only reaction to pull a face at Hermione before they both hurried after Lily who had stormed ahead.

"You're late girls." McGonagall said haughtily. "I would dock points but in the circumstances…" Her voice died away, as she refrained from pointing out what every member of the room knew – was there any point in docking further points from Gryffindor when they were so far in the red anyway?

"We're sorry," Lily babbled, flushing, whilst hastening to find a seat – she hated, Hermione had learnt, more than anything, to let people down; the two were very similar in that aspect. Dorcas sat mutinously, resolutely saying nothing.

"Sorry Professor," Hermione was about to launch into an explanation of precisely why they were late, when Dorcas sent her a disparaging glare – she wanted to redeem herself, was that so wrong? "We had some difficulties on the way down here." she finished lamely, thumping down onto a seat, disheartened already.

"Very well." McGonagall sniffed. "If we aren't going to waste any more time, I'll begin. The Headmaster," She punctuated the word with an irritated emphasis, whilst simultaneously flicking her wand towards the door, the lock clicking and casting various protections on the room, all whilst talking. "Has decided how we may embark, after that fiasco. For some reason, he has decided, that it is perfectly possible, for both of you," she gestured towards Dorcas and Remus, "to transform together on the full moon."

James sat up bolt upright, a mixture of outrage and shock mingling on his features. "But Meadowes isn't – she can't be- Sirius mentioned the possibility but – no –" he flinched, as the realisation dawned on him fully, the blood draining from his face in horror. "Bloody hell." He finished, utterly horrified.

Remus hadn't told him? Hermione was surprised and yet, unsurprised – it was entirely unfair of Remus to keep them in the dark about something like this, but she understood his reasons for doing so – even if she didn't agree with them. Her features betrayed her sympathy, but fortunately, none were looking in her direction – no one here appreciated the emotion.

McGonagall bit her lip almost imperceptibly, wrestling with the impulse to say something. When it seemed she'd mastered it, she spoke. "Potter-" her tone was comforting and she hesitated on the verge of continuing in that manner, but something in her eyes changed. "Would we be discussing the arrangements as such, if it were otherwise?" she remarked icily.

"No." James muttered rebelliously.

"So," Hermione rushed into the gap, after the silence became prolonged. "How does Dumbledore plan to do this?"

"Potter, Black and Pettigrew, along with myself, shall transform." McGonagall replied, her voice softening slightly. "He believes that Remus' presence will make it easier for Dorcas."

"Animagi." Dorcas mouthed, making it plain to any who had misunderstood, precisely what McGonagall had been talking about.

Hermione raised an eyebrow – having devoured reams of books on the subject in her third year, she had already spotted a potential flaw in this plan, one she was shocked Dumbledore hadn't addressed. "But Professor," she interjected. "How can you possibly guarantee that Remus won't attack her or at least chase her away? He won't be in his right mind – it's a complete gamble!" she grimaced apologetically at Remus, her previous anger with him abated – Remus blinked - stunned - at her for a second, before turning away stiffly.

"That," McGonagall looked on at Hermione, half-impressed, half-aggravated. "Is where Black comes in."

"How?" Hermione asked, glancing over to the corner where Sirius skulked. "I mean it's not as if-" her voice tailed off, as she realised precisely where this was heading. "Is he – is Black the pack leader?" she asked, focussing her gaze on her Professor, whose reactions, in this turmoil at least, were the easiest to anticipate.

"Well done Miss Granger." McGonagall said, flicking an almost imperceptible glance towards Sirius, who was trying, and failing to avoid everyone's gaze.

"But-" Lily spluttered, echoing Hermione's thoughts. "- How is that possible?"

"You'll have to ask Black that yourself." McGonagall said primly, casting another contemptuous look towards Sirius, who muttered something unintelligible under his breath, before taking a deep breath.

Sirius paused, about to tell McGonagall that she could bloody well tell them herself, when his head twinged painfully. He quickly told himself it was nothing, but the pressure increased, weighing down on him, and his chest throbbed, straining to continue its work, pumping the blood around his body, keeping him alive; he almost thought his ribs would crack under the pressure – the Unbreakable Vow was certainly having an effect. Sirius took a deep breath, acknowledging it – he would help her, wouldn't he? The pressure lessened somewhat, enough for him to talk, and Sirius took advantage of the lack of pain, rushing the words out.

"It was that night," he began grudgingly. "And I had to run away after I'd distracted Re - Lupin,"

It was difficult to explain for him to explain – things were different from an animal perspective, strange to put into words, but he managed as best he could (it wasn't as though he had a choice in the matter). "After you deprive a werewolf of it's prey, they aren't exactly happy, so I ran into the woods – and led Re – him round, and when I saw an opportunity, I ran for it, back towards the Shack, and when Peter let me in, I sprinted for the Shack, but when I reached it – he was a the foot of the stairs, and I – my human self didn't know what to do, so I just followed my instincts."

There was a long silence after he'd finished, tense and distracted, with both James and McGonagall frowning thoughtfully. "So that was why you – he" James rephrased his sentence, and a look of hurt flashed across Sirius' face, but was well hidden within the next moment. "Couldn't transform back."

"He couldn't transform back?" McGonagall's head snapped up immediately. "What do you mean Potter?"

James faltered, but Sirius tore in the gap angrily. "Could you at least not talk about me right in front of me?"

"Black!" McGonagall snapped crossly.

"Well considering everything you've done-" Lily began furiously, jumping to her feet.

"Is this really any of your business?" Sirius retorted.

"It's definitely my business – it's my friend who was turned into a _werewolf_!"

"And what gives you the right to interfere?"

"Just like you did!" Hermione couldn't keep silent any longer. "It's not like Remus _asked _you to become animagi!"

James stood furiously. "Just because you wouldn't do the same-"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Hermione rounded on James.

"You know exactly what that means! Just because you and Evans couldn't break a single rule to help anyone-"

"Shut up!" Hermione's blood pounded in her head, and she advanced on James furiously. "You don't have a clue what you're talking about – just shut up!"

"Considering we're deceiving the Ministry by just being here, I'd say your point's null and void Potter." Lily interrupted superiorly.

"Enough!" Remus broke into the argument, with a livid expression. "D'you _really _think that arguing is going to help _anything_?"

"I don't give a damn about who's to blame anymore," a quiet voice, quite unexpected, added. "As far as I'm concerned, we're all to blame."

Every person swivelled to face Dorcas, who sat in the corner – not angry, not uttering profanities or death threats, not even waving her wand around – it was most unlike her. "_What_?" James was stunned, as was every one else.

"Look – d'you think this happened because of one thing? Yes – Black told Snape how to get down there, but Snape didn't _have _to go down there, did he? He chose to! Hermione shouldn't have run outside. I shouldn't have followed her." She gestured to each person in turn. "We shouldn't have followed Snape-" she noted the impatience in their faces, as she hurried on. "What I'm getting at is that it's not just one person's fault. Yeah, I'd like to curse Black to hell and back, but then I'd have to reserve some curses for the rest of you, and myself, and frankly, I can't be bothered. Now," Dorcas finished, with an air of the teacher calming their unruly students. "Could we _please_, get on with this meeting?"

A ghost of a smile flitted across Sirius' face, which Dorcas caught. "That doesn't stop me saying fuck you Black."

No one spoke after Dorcas' tirade – they were all absorbed in their own thoughts and realisations. McGonagall was the first to recover, clearing her throat and drawing the attention back to herself – Hermione thought of Umbridge with a smile. "That was most unexpected Dorcas," she began, "But not entirely inaccurate," and Hermione, looking on at McGonagall, saw something like pride in her eyes. "Now, the charms on the Shack are currently-"

* * *

November 5th 1976 

"Bloody hell!" Dorcas swore, rubbing a shoulder, which throbbed, the skin underneath her shirt an angry red – she'd walked too close to the Whomping Willow, and had subsequently been walloped by a branch. "You do that every month?" she asked Lupin, who walked ahead of her, stiff and obviously torn between anger and hurt.

"Pretty much," Remus replied, without turning round, his voice bitter, leading the way down the corridor, with the others following – McGonagall had insisted that Remus showed her the Shack as 'to see what he thought of it' and most probably to get both Remus and Dorcas talking to one another; and Remus had somewhat reluctantly complied.

Dorcas shuddered, eyeing the walls of the tunnel apprehensively, her eyes running over every crack and crevice in the wall. Clutching her arms tightly enough to bruise, she forced herself to speak, to distract herself from the underground, "What's – what's it like?" she asked nervously.

"What's what like?" Remus asked distractedly, his voice tight and his hand running along the edge of the tunnel, sending small cascades of dirt streaming down the sides of the tunnel.

"What's it like?" Dorcas repeated, placing the emphasis on it, her face draining to a wan colour as she watched the small dirt piles accumulate as Remus ran his hand along the wall.

"It? Oh." Remus seemed at last to understand what Dorcas was hinting at. "It's – I'll talk you through it when the time comes." He was trying his best to be comforting, Dorcas could tell, but there was a dark undercurrent in his voice that threatened to overwhelm it.

"That's really not helpful." She returned shakily; and for the first time, Remus glanced back, shaking himself as he noticed Dorcas' discomfort.

"Sorry, I'm just a little-"

"Tense?" she supplied, regaining some of her old bravado.

"Distracted was the word I was looking for." Remus smiled half-heartedly. "It's just with Sirius and everything…it's a little, awkward."

"Mhmm." Dorcas replied tightly, biting down on her lip to avoid snapping at him – why couldn't he just talk?

"It'll happen slowly," He began; painfully slow to say each word, chewing each phrase, mulling it over before saying it. Dorcas got the impression he was mentally remembering each transformation – at least, he winced whilst saying it. But it was better to know beforehand. "Your senses will adjust, your hearing, smell – everything. Sight's the last thing to go. And then," He grimaced involuntarily. "You'll – it's – it's not pleasant, suffice to say, but it's over quickly." He hurried on, as if realising that this wouldn't comfort Dorcas in the slightest. "You won't feel it or remember it when you're a wolf – and when there's no blood lust, it can sometimes be okay."

Dorcas raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Well," Remus amended quickly, "It's not so bad. Have you told your parents yet?" he asked. Dorcas flinched, flushing red. "I'll take that as a no." Remus muttered, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, which Dorcas shrugged off, irritated, and unwilling to receive the sympathy – or as she perceived it; pity.

"Why the hell would my parents want anything to do with me?" Dorcas muttered, slowly flushing an angry red – how dare he be so presumptuous, how could he ask her that of all things, at a time like this? "Who in their right bloody mind would want a werewolf for a daughter?" her voice was slowly rising, a heady mixture of anger, fear and hurt, a bubbling combination of everything she'd felt but was unable to voice. "It's not exactly a bonus in life! It's ruined everything I've ever wanted! It's not fucking fair!" she pounded the floor hard with one foot, scuffing her foot against the ground furiously, taking her anger out of the dirt – she needed to take her anger out on something!

Remus stared at her, taken aback by the ferocity of her anger, but he knew her well enough now, to press his advantage – regardless of the consequences, if he wanted anything out of her. "It's got to be more than that." He remarked quietly, shifting so he could meet Dorcas' eyes. "It can't just be that you're afraid of telling them. That's not you – you're a Gryffindor to the bone, beanpole." He used her detested nickname in the way a friend would, with no malicious intent. "What is it that's stopping you telling them?" he asked.

"Don't you think that I've had enough of bloody probing questions?" Dorcas retorted, ducking her head to avoid Lupin's gaze – he made her feel inexplicably guilty. "What?" she snapped, glaring at him, suddenly, attacking wildly in her own defence like a wild animal.

Remus regarded her with a strange expression, torn between sobriety and amusement. "You don't have to-"

"You're not going to leave it alone are you?" Dorcas sighed, watching him – he remained silent under her scrutiny, and her anger, as hard as she tried to cling to it, melted away. "You're like a dog with a bloody bone." She muttered, scuffing her shoe against the dirt again. "Fine. Alright. I just-" expressing her feelings articulately was more difficult than she had imagined. "I don't think they'll understand." She began at length. "And that's not just it. I don't know, I get the feeling, I just know, that if I told my parents, their reaction wouldn't be what I'd want it to be." She glanced sideways at Lupin, who walked next to her, his face carefully schooled to be expressionless – he knew her entirely too well – if she perceived an emotion she didn't like in his face (to be truthful, any at all) she would change the subject. "My Mum'd explode – she'd want revenge on everyone involved, especially you and Dumbledore. She wouldn't want to keep it quiet."

"And you do?" Remus asked, with a note of surprise. Dorcas looked at him confusedly.

"Of course I do you moron. Do you really think I wasn't this thing splashed all over the bloody Prophet?" Dorcas gave him a look, which clearly stated the degree of his idiocy.

"Carry on," Remus urged her, and Dorcas reluctantly continued – she was more than willing to drop the subject – she disliked the confessional air the conversation had gathered.

"My Dad's the total opposite – he wouldn't want to turn it into a big affair, but, he's quite…" Dorcas searched for the right word, not wanting to put her father in a poor light. "Conventional - he wouldn't dream of deceiving the authorities. He'd tell them in a heart beat." She knew that her efforts were failing to put her father in a better light were failing miserably, but she was quickly losing the inclination to do so. "I don't even understand why he'd want to! I'm his only daughter for Merlin's sake! Surely that counts for something!"

Remus remained silent, depriving Dorcas of an object to vent her ire on. "Fuck it. Fuck it all." She strode ahead of Remus purposefully, determinedly ignoring him – he'd succeeded in bringing out all the fears she'd successfully avoided in the past few weeks, and thanks to him she was buried in emotional turmoil. She didn't want to deceive her parents – what kind of person did? – but over her dead body would the Ministry find out about this. She wanted to lead a normal life – explore the world, take a job wherever she wanted, without having to fight every step of the way – was that so wrong? Not that she wouldn't fight if necessary – she wasn't a shirker, and she wouldn't abandon anyone – ever. Why couldn't everyone else be the same?

She heard pounding footsteps, and someone clutched at her arm. "You think you're the only one who's ever worried about what people think? Do you think that you're the only one who's ever been afraid?"

Dorcas shook him, off, spinning, angry words rising to the forefront of her mind, already forming a retort, when she saw him. Remus' face was bloodless, but his previous lethargy had vanished and it stopped her in her tracks, whilst Remus continued his rant. "I've been patient Dorcas – more than most people, and in case you've noticed nobody is trying to hinder you! We want to help you, but you won't let us!"

"I-" Dorcas tried to interrupt, but fell silent at Remus' glance. "I don't know what you want me to say!" she raised her hands in apology. "D'you want me to compose an essay outlining everything with a long grovelly apology at the end – what do you want me to do?"

"Just," Remus hesitated momentarily, but rushed into the gap before Dorcas could. "Just, stop being so angry at everyone. I mean, Merlin knows you have the right – but do you need to exercise it constantly?"

Dorcas was taken aback momentarily, before she thought of a reply. "What about you?" she asked craftily. "What about you and Sirius?"

Remus hesitated for a second before asking darkly, "What about him?"

Dorcas looked at Remus, frowning contemplatively. Before now, before this had happened, perhaps even at the beginning of all of this, she would have condemned Black in a heartbeat. It was entirely his fault this had happened, she would have said, cursing him to the worst of fates, and she would have wished to stand over his bloodied corpse – that was what her anger was like, but now on reflection…her anger was tempered, restrained to a lakeful of blood instead of perhaps an ocean – but could Remus feel the same?

Black had betrayed his trust – Remus' greatest curse and secret, and Black had betrayed that, with terrible consequences and in his place, Dorcas would have vowed _never _to forgive him, ever – but Remus greatest curse had shaped him, made him who he was, and that person was not her – she wasn't a Lily or a Hermione, desperate to intervene, to smooth away all the worries of the world in one fell swoop.

"He betrayed you," Dorcas replied, after a brief pause. "And if I was standing in your shoes, I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive him."

"You're probably the first person to have said that." Remus smiled crookedly.

"I'm just saying, don't let James or any of the others push you into forgiving him – even unconsciously – it's not fair." Dorcas said, crossing her arms, mentally adding _not to mention you'll resent them for it for the rest of your life __**and **__it'll mean stuff all._

Remus squeezed her shoulder. "Thanks."

_

* * *

November7th 1976_

The one ray of light, as far as Dorcas was concerned, and a heavy thundercloud on the horizon for her friends, was the upcoming Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match, and it seemed to be the only thing that had kept the members of Gryffindor house from ripping them limb from limb – the prospect of winning the Quidditch Cup. It was just as well the team had practiced like demons before _that _night – as they had taken to referring it – or the team would have been in seriously deep trouble, as Lily mentioned at the breakfast table that morning, whilst casting an eagle eye on Dorcas, whose plate Hermione was slipping sausages on to whilst her back was turned.

"Are you still planning to go through with this?" Lily leant forward on her elbows, gazing at Dorcas, who was nervously picking at her plate, but looked up at Lily, shocked, before her eyes narrowed.

"I am," she replied around a mouthful of beans, which she swallowed, draining a mug of pumpkin juice. "Don't bother to try and dissuade me – besides then we'd have to substitute Falkenham in."

"What's wrong with Falkenham?" Lily asked confusedly, thinking of the slender fifth year boy, whose physique was possibly better suited to Seeker than Keeper. "He can't be _that_ bad!"

"He's atrocious," Alice joined the conversation, with a wince. "Falkenham couldn't stop a quaffle if it was charmed to fly at him for all eternity. Besides," she continued, "Dorcas will be fine – we'll only end up jinxing her ourselves with all this worrying!"

"Alice!" Hermione was shocked at Alice's idiocy. "She's still recovering from – well, I agree with Madam Pomfrey, it's ridiculous for her to be playing today!"

"I feel fine!" Dorcas glared at Lily and Hermione, "And I'd thank both of you to stop fussing over my health like old mother hens! Anyway, the biggest problem today'll be the rain."

"Rain?" Hermione and Lily exchanged puzzled glances – the ceiling above reflected a light blue autumn sky, with a few clouds gathering at the edges. "What rain?"

"Oh," Alice rolled her eyes expressively, pouring the milk onto her cereal absent-mindedly. "Captain Potter had a half an hour talk explaining precisely _why _this match couldn't last more than five hours – seems there's a remote chance of a _slight _spot of rain."

"A little bit of an over exaggeration Alice," Dorcas said with a wry, if tight, smile, prodding a piece of bacon tentatively with her knife.

"Us reserves don't have to pay attention," Alice grinned half-heartedly.

"You'd better eat something," Hermione said, attempting to keep the nagging tone out of her voice and failing miserably. "You're going to need it."

"I'm not hungry." Dorcas pushed her plate away, looking green around the gills and with a glance down the table towards James, she stood. "I'm going to go down now, ok? I'll see you down there."

Lily looked to protest, but Alice laid a hand on her arm. "Good luck Dorcas – you'll be great," Alice said, with a cheering grin.

"Good luck beanpole," Lily wished, giving Dorcas a half-hearted grin, as did Hermione, "Good luck Dorcas!" she called towards her retreating back, as the post owls swooped in. Hermione searched the hordes for Enid's owl – Seanán - not particularly hopefully, but she scanned the hall hopefully, ignoring the owl, which plunged into the cereal bowl on her right, spilling milk all over the tables.

As it was, Seanán didn't arrive until a few moments before they set off before the match – and she barely restrained herself from tearing it open – the odds that someone else might read it strengthened her self-resolve, and she thrust it in her pocket for later, as they hurried down to the stadium.

The morning, whilst cloud-free, was still bitterly cold, despite the sun shining down brightly and Hermione couldn't help but remember the other times she had spent at the Quidditch pitch – gnawing her nails nervously as she watched Harry and Ron fly, praying that nothing would go wrong and covering her face every time someone hit a Bludger at them – she'd avoided the Quidditch pitch thus far for that very reason.

Jostled along by the crowds, Hermione struggled to keep up with Lily and Alice, ducking and sliding past people, the odd Gryffindor she jostled glaring at her with venom, except the first years, who jumped out of her way, as if the house's anger was contagious – Hermione thought that the only possible benefit of the match would be that a victory would prevent the house from being so angry.

It seemed that Lily and Alice had saved a seat for her, and she squeezed along the row to get through to them gratefully, as the pitch filled with tumultuous applause, the players striding onto the pitch, red and gold meeting blue and bronze.

* * *

Dorcas couldn't suppress a grin as she strode out onto the pitch, her previous nerves abated, although the odd stray butterfly might have quivered once or twice in her stomach. Her opposite – the Ravenclaw keeper – was a beefy, heavy set sixth year called Phillip Carlyle, who had once hit the Quaffle so far out from the goal that it had soared all the way across the pitch, and scored a goal to boot – fortunately, Dorcas wasn't _quite_ as bad a keeper that she would let in a goal like that. 

"Potter, Archer, shake hands," the new coach – Madam Hooch – said briskly, and the two captains shook hands quickly.

"Mount your brooms-" Dorcas swung a leg over her broom, "On my whistle-" she bent her legs, ready to push off as hard as possible on the whistle – if the Ravenclaw chasers got the Quaffle before she got there, well, the consequences wouldn't be pretty – but she was a pro at this now, no need to worry. "Three-two-one-"

Dorcas uncoiled rapidly, pushing off the ground as hard as she could, desperate to gain elevation – these first few seconds of the game were always so tense, and in a few seconds, the balls would be released…

"And they've released the balls!" The commentator announced - a fifth year Hufflepuff. "Of course, the favourites for this match by far are the Ravenclaw team-"

This last remark solicited a large amount of boo's and hisses from the Gryffindor end of the stands, and Dorcas grinned – in Quidditch, Gryffindor was united – "Shit!" a dark blur sped past her, grazing her skin and making her wobble on her broom – bloody Bludgers! She had to keep her head in the game!

"Ok Professor," the girl sounded completely unabashed. "Ravenclaw Chaser – Orion Astin – has the quaffle and is streaking up the pitch, the Gryffindors are just allowing him to slip through! Approaching goal-"

_Come on Dorcas, you can do this –_ Orion was making for the far left goal, and Dorcas was half-tempted to cover that instead but no – no, he was a typical Ravenclaw, and that meant double, even triple bluffing. Right or left – right or left? She had a split second to choose, was Astin feinting or not? As his arm curved back she struck out for the far goal, her arms outstretched – this had better be the right choice – it could set the entire tone of the match – _please, Merlin, let me have chosen the right side! _

"And by some misfortune Orion fails to score – obviously Gryffindor's daddy longlegs of a Keeper Dorcas Meadowes, has proved that having long legs really does help in this game!"

_Cow –_ her grating voice set Dorcas teeth on edge, as she hurled the ball out to Potter, who caught it neatly, rolling to avoid a Bludger – the Ravenclaw Beaters had good aim – "HEY FABIAN!" she yelled. "TRY STEALING THE BLUDGER OFF THOSE BLOODY BEATERS!"

* * *

James gripped his broom tightly with his knees, in a roll, desperate to avoid both dropping the Quaffle and falling off his broom in mid-air – it was a difficult move, but he'd mastered it – he shot forwards unexpectedly, the Chaser about to tackle him falling behind and James couldn't help but grin as Dorcas screamed "TRY STEALING THE BLUDGER OFF THOSE BLOODY BEATERS!" - but a glance back told him that the Ravenclaws were regrouping – a shot of pain jolted his arm as a Bludger clipped his elbow, and he almost dropped the Quaffle – he chucked the ball to Kirsty Vance, who sped off at a terrific pace – 

"Gryffindor in possession - Vance has the ball – a new find of James Potter's, let's hope she lives up to expectations – Vance passes to Morrison, who fumbles, almost drops it, Ravenclaw's gaining on them, c'mon Ravenclaw put in a tackle! – He flips it, but Potter catches it, speeds ahead, he's heading for the goal - lets see if Carlyle's up to fighting form-"

Could he do this? – He had to – the team – Gryffindor, depended on it, _Come on Potter_ that voice whispered in his head, _Come on Potter you can do it!_ The world was narrowing down, focussing on that one point and yet broadening, he was aware of all his surroundings – where the hell did that Bludger come from? – Carlyle loomed ahead, big, bulky, practically blocking all three goals at once - he'd have to get past that?

"ARE YOU BEATERS OR NOT?" He roared at Gideon Prewitt. "DO ME A FAVOUR AND HIT THE THINGS!"

He was fast approaching the goal, with Vance on his left for support, but he had to do this, he had to redeem himself-

"And the Gryffindor Beaters finally manage to get a hit in! Keeper Carlyle looks like he's having difficulties – Gryffindor shoot – Carlyle blocks…Gryffindor score! So Gryffindor are now ten points to zero, but Ravenclaw can still pull back-"

But there was tumultuous applause from the Gryffindor end of the stadium, easily drowning out the commentary – James took off again as Carlyle hurled the Quaffle back out – this was not going to be an easy game…

* * *

Hermione could barely force herself to watch, as Alice danced around screaming with joy as Gryffindor scored, "We scored, we scored!" Alice cheered, capering madly but Hermione could only cringe. 

"_Ravenclaw's beater – Poole – puts in a beautiful hit, and Chaser Potter drops the ball – Ravenclaw take possession, and they're streaking down the pitch – they're really on form today – Astin to Johnson, who just takes off with the ball and she's really making tracks down the pitch, Johnson reverse passes to Astin, who flips it – what's he doing? – Caught by Handle, who ducks a bludger –"_

"Urgh," Hermione shuddered as the Bludger connected with the Ravenclaw Chaser – Isabel Johnson. "I hate this!" she muttered.

"_Johnson has the Quaffle again – she's really going for it – and she shoots, Keeper dives – she scores! Ravenclaw and Gryffindor now draw – ten points each and everything's in it for this game!"_

* * *

The game progressed quickly, Gryffindor were up by twenty points over Ravenclaw's sixty, if they could just maintain this lead – what the hell was Erin playing at? Couldn't she catch the bloody snitch already? Dorcas cursed as the Ravenclaw trio shot up the pitch towards her, approaching quickly, passing the ball quickly in a favourite move of theirs, and it looked as though Handle would be the one to shoot, off the right hand goal, but she reverse passed it to Astin – Dorcas groaned through gritted teeth – which way would he choose? – He shifted sideways, seemingly aiming for the right hand hoop – the Gryffindors were screaming at her to cover the hoop, but she saw his body twist at the last minute – another bluff! – She threw herself in front of the middle goal, as the Quaffle left his hands – had her intuition paid off? 

_Thank Merlin! _The Quaffle soared neatly into her hands, and she caught it with a triumphant grin – the Gryffindors below her cheering, forgetting their animosity in the intensity of the match. A hurl of the ball to Vance and the Quaffle began its flight to the other end of the pitch – the Ravenclaw Chasers in pursuit – _What the hell?_

* * *

A gasp emitted from the Gryffindor stands, as a Bludger smacked straight into Dorcas' chest. Dorcas was flung backwards, but managed – by some miracle – to stay on her broom, but her face had turned a sickly shade of white. "FOUL!" Alice shrieked, along with the rest of the Gryffindors. 

"FOUL!" Hermione joined in, looking furiously for the Ravenclaw Beaters – how dare they injure her further?

"And the Gryffindors are desperately calling the foul – Meadowes doesn't look too good. And yes, there's the whistle, the penalty's gone to Gryffindor – Morrison takes it and puts it in neatly – Gryffindor are leading, ninety – sixty."

* * *

"How are you Meadowes?" James swooped across to her, ignoring a Bludger that shot past his ear. "Can you play on?" 

Dorcas' chest throbbed – she felt as though a tank had run over her, followed swiftly by several herds of elephants. "I'll be fine," she croaked, rubbing her chest one-handed, swaying slightly. A grinding sound – nails on a chalkboard – rasped out. "I just feel like an elephant decided my chest'd make a brilliant new couch – I'm fine."

Potter gave her a sceptical look – exasperated. "I think I should call for a time-out," he muttered, "You can barely stay on your broom – how the hell are you meant to stop goals?"

"I'm fine!" Dorcas insisted, clutching at the broom ineffectively – trying to suck in a deep breath, but catching short as her chest was constricted tightly. "Fuck," she whispered, her voice gradually rising to an embarrassing squeak. "Fuckety, fuck, fuck fuck – ow!"

Potter looked concerned. "HOOCH?" he yelled, flying towards Dorcas, steadying her on the broom. "MADAM HOOCH?" he shouted, more respectfully as the referee flew over. "Can we call a time-out?" he asked, gesturing to Dorcas, who felt her chest muscles fluttering, and her breathing getting shorter. "My Keeper's injured."

Madam Hooch gave Dorcas a once over, who sat bolt upright on her broom. "I'm fine," she gritted out. "Honestly." Potter flashed her an irritated glance.

"Don't listen to her, she doesn't know what she's talking about," Potter said tightly, preventing a swaying, sweating Dorcas from falling off her broom – Dorcas wanted to punch the idiot, but couldn't as her attention was fixed on staying on her broom, and not fainting.

"I'm-" Dorcas broke off, her constricted chest preventing her saying anything more – grinding with her every movement, it felt unbearable, the pain burning white hot.

"A time out then, Potter," Hooch nodded, before blowing her whistle loudly three times.

"Gryffindor have appealed for a time out," the announcer informed those unaware of the meaning of those three blasts. "Perhaps Gryffindor's Keeper is in a little more trouble than previously thought – and maybe not as brave!"

"I thought Hufflepuffs' were supposed to sweet and nice," Dorcas grumbled incoherently. "That one's a right little cow."

"Tell me about it." Potter grinned, as Kirsty shot over from the other end of the pitch, Morrison following more slowly. Dorcas kept a wary eye on the Prewitt brothers. "Where's Erin?"

"Already there." Kirsty pointed towards the stands, her movements short and staccato as she helped steady Dorcas. "What happened? I heard the commentator, but she's about as useful as rabid hippogriff."

"Bludger." Dorcas forced out, a heavy sheen of sweat coating her face – and she could feel a headache gnawing at the back of her head, throbbing painfully.

"Oh." Kirsty pulled a face. "Ow. C'mere you bloody stupid bugger." She looped her arm round Dorcas' shoulders, steadying her as they landed – Dorcas didn't miss the look of relief on Potter's face. "Why in hell did you let it hit you?" she asked cheerfully.

"I didn't let it hit me." Dorcas said through gritted teeth. "I just didn't see it coming."

"Well that was stupid." Kirsty grinned – her sympathy, as a member of the team, who took knocks herself, was limited.

"Thanks." Dorcas replied tightly, one hand wrapped around her broom handle, the other on Kirsty's shoulder, as they reached the pitch floor. Dorcas unwrapped her hands from the broom, but as she tried to lift her leg over, she fell.

"Fuck!" Dorcas shrieked, as Kirsty caught her, hauling to her feet, with Morrison on her other side – who quailed as Madam Pomfrey dashed over, whilst Kirsty merely rolled her eyes.

"Sweet Circe," Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath, conjuring a stretcher. "I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, letting you play at a time like this! I'll be giving him a piece of my mind when I see him," she continued, pulling out an orange concoction. "This'll get rid of the pain," she informed them, fixing Dorcas with a stern glare – Dorcas immediately swallowed it down with difficulty, spluttering and choking.

"Don't be such a baby," Kirsty told her, sitting on the grass beside the stretcher, their broomsticks wrapped under her arm to prevent their escape. "It can't taste that bad."

"Take it yourself." Dorcas muttered, flinging out a hand in a futile effort to hit Kirsty, who simply laughed, moving out of range.

"I think I'll pass," Kirsty smirked, clambering to her feet, as Madam Pomfrey moved further towards the pitch edge.

"How is she?" Potter asked, striding back over towards them.

"She," Dorcas replied testily, as Madam Pomfrey volleyed healing spells at her. "Is fine, thank you very much and would appreciate your addressing her."

Kirsty snickered at James' consternation – he was never particularly good with sick women, but he had certainly improved – in the end he just laughed. "I take it you're feeling better then?" he asked with a grin. "Ready to play?"

"You couldn't stop me if you tried Potter!" Dorcas grinned at him, attempting to stand up, as Madam Pomfrey pulled her back down abruptly.

"You are not playing again, Dorcas Meadowes – don't think you are for a second." Madam Pomfrey looked livid. "You've been entrusted to my care, and by Merlin, I am going to look after you! I should never have agreed to let you play in the first place!"

"I am playing." Dorcas announced archly, trying to stand again, as Morrison elbowed Kirsty, who had let out a yelp of a laugh. James fled, presumably to talk tactics with Gideon and Fabian Prewitt – or possibly to yell at them for not stealing the Bludger off the Ravenclaws – Dorcas hoped it was the latter – it would give her a laugh, and if they'd had the Bludger none of this would have happened! "Madam Pomfrey," Dorcas tried another tactic. "I'm perfectly fine now and I feel just fine – if I promise to be careful-"

"You are not going anywhere Miss Meadowes!" Madam Pomfrey snapped – evidently Dorcas' tactic had fallen flat on its face. "Yes I am!" Dorcas retorted, as Morrison slapped his hand over Kirsty's mouth in an effort to suppress her ever present giggles.

"Nine minutes." Erin announced, sidling over to them.

"Where've you been?" Kirsty asked her indignantly.

Erin flushed and whispered something in Kirsty's ear. "What?" Kirsty asked, a grin slowly spreading over her face.

"What?" Morrison asked, desperately curious.

"Oh nothing!" Kirsty announced loudly, causing Erin to blush more deeply, and stand on Kirsty's toe – hard, judging by Kirsty's yelp. "Git!" she squawked.

"I am going to play." Dorcas stood firm – well, on the subject at hand, as opposed to literally standing firm – as it was she was a little woozy.

"You are not." Madam Pomfrey had progressed to angry beyond belief.

"Hasn't Dumbledore or McGonagall got the final decision though?" Morrison pointed out, from a safe distance. Dorcas smirked triumphantly.

"Couldn't we ask them then?" She asked, trying and failing to conceal her victorious smirk.

"Fine." Madam Pomfrey frowned reluctantly. "I'll just get her." She stalked away, back stiff. Dorcas breathed a sigh of relief, plopping to the ground with a sigh.

"Not so good then?" Kirsty grinned, before resuming her squabble with Morrison. Erin sat down next to her composedly.

"If she tells him I'll kill her." She announced calmly.

"Tells him what?" Dorcas asked, rolling onto her side.

"Oh – I split my trousers." Erin flushed again.

"Ah." Dorcas said tactfully, as they lapsed into silence. "How come you haven't caught the Snitch yet?" she teased, watching James rip into the Prewitt brothers.

"I think Archer's eaten it," Erin sighed gloomily. "It's not anywhere."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Dorcas grinned, "D'you reckon we'd have to keep playing until it passes through his system?"

"Aw gross!" Erin shoved her, but because she was so slight, the effect was minimal.

"I know." Dorcas sat up as Pomfrey returned a deep scowl on her face. "I think I'll be playing," she added happily.

"Just as well," Erin murmured, "'Cause we have about a minute until the time out's over."

* * *

"Is she ok?" Hermione strained to see over the crowd, desperately worried – despite the fact that her team didn't seem worried in the slightest. 

"I think so," Alice replied, "At least, she's been arguing with Madam Pomfrey – if she's well enough to argue, she's well enough to fly."

Hermione bit her lip, sitting down again as the referee blew the whistle, and the teams scrambled to their feet. "I hope so." She murmured.

"Same here." Lily said, staring at Dorcas intently.

"Bugger!" Dorcas swore, as the Quaffle slipped past her fingers, and into the goal behind. "Bugger!" she swooped down to catch it, cursing heavily – she'd been cocksure, damn it!

"What's the score?" she called to Kirsty as she chucked the ball to her.

"One hundred and twenty to one hundred and ten!" The announcer saved Kirsty from answering her question.

"Score some bloody goals." She whispered, rubbing her chest - it was slightly sore, not that she'd ever let anyone know. What was Erin doing?

Erin scowled at Archer, her opposite number – evidently his tactic was to stalk her until she stole a Beater's bat and pummelled him with it – he was pushing his luck, the lazy sod, and driving her insane in the bargain, either blocking her every move or marking her so closely she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Still, she thought with a grin, maybe she could use this to her advantage – if he really wanted to follow her…she yanked her broom up, forcing herself to rise naturally, slowly, gaining height steadily – at about ninety feet, she paused, levelling out, forcing herself to pretend to sweep the pitch for the snitch, but it was nowhere to be seen – she was sure Archer had swallowed the damn thing!

He was following her, she was sure of it. Erin suppressed a nervous smirk – if she could pull this off she'd be thrilled and Archer would have grass up his nose. Not to mention alive. She gave herself no time to let her nerves overwhelm herself, instead plunging into a steep dive – with Archer following.

"It seems the Gryffindor Seeker has seen something!" she could hear the vague gasp of the crowd, but all her surroundings had blurred into a messy torrent of images – she focussed on her downward acceleration, gripping her broom tightly, as the wind whipped at her, tossing her hair around crazily.

She wanted to look back desperately, see if Archer was still following her, but at this speed she'd be torn off her broom. The ground was approaching quickly, but she pushed the broom still faster – thirty feet – twenty feet – fifteen – ten -

She yanked out of the dive at the very last second, pulling her broom upwards – Archer was not so lucky. He pulled out of the dive before he crashed, but went careening off his broom, and slid across the stadium grass, coming to rest half a centimetre away from the barriers. A job well done – Erin allowed a triumphant grin to spread across her face, as the Gryffindors cheered her.

"Holy-" The snitch was hovering just four feet above Archer's head, who blinked woozily. Erin swore, flying towards him manically – Archer's eyes bugged. Closing her eyes, Erin stretched her hand out, grabbing the snitch as she flew over Archer's head, before crashing into the stands on the curve next to him.

"WE WON!" she screamed triumphantly.

_

* * *

November 8th_

Gryffindor had won the match, two hundred and seventy, to Ravenclaw's one hundred and ten – at least Gryffindor was happy again – they were now in the lead for the Quidditch Cup. Sirius scowled, kicking a step – his treatment in the house had improved, but his friends…James would speak to him, but neither mentioned what happened through an unspoken agreement. Peter was his usual quivering self, but Remus; Remus avoided him whenever possible, and barely refused to acknowledge him.

"Shit." Sirius kicked the wall again.

"Black." A curt voice said.

"Snape." He replied, trying to keep his voice civil, and barely managing – he already longed to curse him – how in hell could he keep up this polite veneer? "How are you?" he managed, suppressing a shudder – why the hell had he agreed to that Unbreakable vow? He was a moronic idiot.

"Cut the crap Black – neither of us want to be here, really do we? Now," he proceeded with as much distaste as he could throw into that one word. "Here's the list – tell Dumbledore I've done my work."

"Sniv-" Sirius swallowed, glancing down the list that was revealed when he tapped it. "Snape. You can – you have to keep working." He suppressed the urge to punch the superior little sod.

"Says who?" sneered Snape. "I see no-one here to enforce it."

"Dumbledore," Sirius hurried out, through gritted teeth, feeling the familiar pain in his chest. "Will enforce it."

There was an electric silence. "I suppose." Snape looked at Sirius disdainfully, with an angry undertone. "I know who I'm doing this for – and it's not for that old man. I'll keep doing this Black, if only for them."

Snape was careful, Sirius could see that – but why Dumbledore would want to consort with that piece of filth, he didn't know.

"Alright," he replied levelly, his fists clenched – luckily thinking that he wanted to curse the living daylights out of Snape didn't seem to count. "Until next time Snape."

His method of communication with Pen hadn't taken long for him to figure out – the two-way mirrors. With a security spell, and several nasty little jinxes for the unwary, Sirius had sent it to Pen via an owl – her reply merely being a cursory note, telling him she'd set her password. Well, more than cursory – merely one word – and he was sure Pen and Dumbledore were conspiring to embarass him throughly, but Pen assured him that the odds of someone guessing it were slim to none - and that he shouldn't be saying the password in someone else's hearing anyway.

He took the mirror out resignedly.

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_This letter has passed through several hands to reach you unread by Ministry officials. A friend organised the chain, but I've still got to be cautious in case._

_Sorry I wasn't able to let you know a lot in the last letter - I passed on the note at the time, but you wanted a quick response. However, the person you wrote to has now received your letter – I can't tell you how successful it's been yet, but I'll let you know if news comes. At any rate, he made interested noises as he read it._

_I got rid of the pests – didn't take me too long – but it's got a little worse – still, I'm holding on. Hopefully everything's going well for you at Hogwarts – the thing in question is for the friend I met over the summer right? That's nice of you. I suppose, now, you may as well do as you please. Just be cautious – and enjoy yourself. Don't worry about me. I'm doing well._

_Love_

_Enid_

_PS. Are you staying at Hogwarts for Christmas or coming here?_

_PPS. Do the usual thing with this letter._

Enid blew at the ink on her letter, satisfied with its contents – hopefully, the Ministry, if they intercepted it, wouldn't understand it at all. She slipped it inside an envelope, sealing it afterwards – she'd hand it onto Marlene later.

It had taken her under twenty-four hours for her to disable the probe – its preliminary defences were it's only defences, and once cracked, she had dismantled the probe within minutes – perhaps she should've been a curse breaker. Enid smiled, at that thought, but tensed, remembering what had happened next – the Ministry had sicced a tail on her, joy of all joys. It was irritance, nothing more, as the man was the greatest incompetent she'd ever seen.

She'd delivered Hermione's letter to Belby personally – he was in her Department anyway. He'd seemed receptive to its contents – it hadn't made much sense to Enid, but then again, Potions weren't her speciality. She was glad Hermione was happy; she just hoped that whatever changed in the future would be good. It hadn't taken her long to figure out Remus Lupin was a werewolf – she'd seen the symptoms often enough, and heard about them to, listening to various figures in the Ministry and reading books on the subject – it had terrified her at first – repulsed her even - but as she got used to it – she'd realized he was a nice boy – he'd saved Hermione's life – what right had she got to judge him on that one account?

Paying no attention to what she was doing, Enid almost swore as she realized she had spilt her coffee over, and it was rapidly staining her later a dark shade of brown, the ink running. "Crap!" she dabbed at it crossly, before siphoning it off – there were some advantages to being a witch, it seemed.

_

* * *

November 16th : Full Moon_

Hermione hugged Dorcas tightly after Lily, wishing she could go with her – help her, but she couldn't. She could only stand here and watch as Dorcas slipped underground, following McGonagall, who, whilst uncharacteristically comforting, was no match for the comfort she felt she and Lily could offer her. Alice wasn't supposed to know, but the girls had decided that they would have to tell McGonagall that Alice knew - Dorcas needed them all tonight – and had informed her – and so Alice had come, hugging Dorcas so tightly, they thought they'd have to prise her off Dorcas with a crowbar.

She glanced to the west, where the sun hovered just above the horizon – soon she knew, it would set, and Dorcas would begin that awful transformation. She wished it had never happened - Merlin how must Dorcas be feeling?

Lily pulled her away gently, tugging on her arm, leading her away – they couldn't linger – and as they began to walk away, the spell on the tree began to fade, as it writhed and flailed in fury at their escape. Hermione knew they couldn't stay – couldn't attract attention to the tree, but still – she craved to turn back and hold Dorcas, comfort her, tell her she'd be fine – and she had to go through that tunnel beforehand, when she was claustrophobic. Hermione swallowed heavily, resenting the fact that there was nothing she could do. If only she could stop the sun from setting, or lop off part of the moon and prevent it ever being full – to spare them from it – but those were silly thoughts, totally useless. Tonight, Hermione knew, she wouldn't sleep. She couldn't, knowing what Dorcas was going through. Neither would the others, she knew. No, tonight, would be another night of manic searching through books for that answer that eluded her – the one to save Dorcas and Remus.

In the west, the sun lowered another inch.

**

* * *

A/N: A seriously busy chapter (enjoy trying to guess Sirius' password!), hopefully everything came across well! I especially hope you enjoyed the Quidditch match (and concrit for that'll be really appreciated, as I've never written a Quidditch match before - or even a quiddtich practice!)**

**Anyway, thanks for reading the last chapter, and adding this fic to your alerts! And of course, a huge thank you to the reviewers: **

**Monnbeam, Alysandra Martin, pstibbons, ****Yochanan Suishoukin, ****LotL101, WuHaoNi, ****suisei no mitsukai, googlibear and Novocain!**

**Just to answer the questions (and comments) that cropped up in the reviews:**

******Yochanan Suishoukin: It _is _possible, and probably will happen (you really gave me food for thought there!), but not until things are in such manic chaos that it may not have _as_ huge an impact as it might have (that's not to say that there won't be a big impact!) Thanks for asking (and giving me food for thought!)**

******LotL101: Wow, lots of questions! Ok, Sirius was expelled, because although Dumbledore said he _might_ not expel someone, he left himself that little loophole. I imagine that McGonagall would have wanted him expelled, after what happened. Sirius is the alpha, because he refused to give ground at the Shack stairs (although there wasn't much choice for him at the time - it was either fight Remus, and probably get bitten, or try what he did.) Finally, I will come back to the Alice, matter - but probably not until things die down - at the moment, I feel, Hermione and everyone else are so caught up in the werewolf matter, that until things settle down, it won't come to head - but it will do eventually, I promise (and thanks for rembering it!)**

******suisei no mitsukai: Just to say thanks for your review! As always, you've raised several issues for me (the ramifications of the vow, and the Marauders reactions - which _again_ inspired a huge chunk of this chapter!) So thank you!**

P.S. Enid's owl is a 'little owl' and Seanán means 'little wise person', which I thought was perfect for Enid's owl!


	13. Unlucky for Some

**A/N: Apologies for the delay - and Happy New Year (in advance) to you all! Anyway, thank you all so much for the response for the last chapter, for the reviews, and just for reading (as always longer thanks are at the end!). Hope you'll enjoy it.  
**

* * *

**S**he could still turn and run. It wasn't as if they'd be able to catch her – being a daddy long legs was useful for some things at least - even if they failed you when it mattered most. Maybe if she'd wake up and realise it was all a dream, a horrific nightmare, nothing more. Or if she made it out of the tunnel, the Shack, it wouldn't be real, it wouldn't happen. Or maybe it was all a stupid prank, concocted by the Marauders – it wasn't real, this wasn't happening to her. 

The dark pressed against her, clutching at from all sides, narrowing inexorably, the tunnel growing narrower and narrower, she'd never be able to stay in here…a soft whimper interrupted her thoughts, drawing her back to reality - who was making that noise? With sudden clarity she realised that she was and she forced herself to stop, swallowing the pitiful mewing noises.

"I'm fine." She whispered, more to herself, than to any nearby listeners, regretting her pride, wishing someone, _anyone, _had insisted on walking with her – but McGonagall had pressured Remus into bowing to Dorcas' wishes, and so they walked ahead, not too far, but far enough.

Far enough for the dark to creep up on her, and the tunnel walls to suddenly shrink in the gloom. Far enough for their footsteps to be faint imaginings, when really she was alone, far enough that…

Who was she? She could conquer her fear – she was a Gryffindor, she should start acting like one, a small voice urged her, but it was drowned under her increasing terror, fear of her situation and fear of what was to come merging to bury what little pride and dignity she had left, driving all common sense from her mind.

Her breath was coming in sharp, panicky gasps as she wrestled with her panic about as successfully as a lion tamer facing a hundred of the beasts. Her fists clenched unconsciously, her walk slowing to a crawl – could she run and make it in time?

* * *

Soft golden light filtered into the library, the fading sun giving the books – and the readers – a golden cast, but for once the occupants of the window seats weren't feverishly turning pages.Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from the window and the quickly vanishing sun, couldn't help but wonder what was going on – they'd surely be in the Shack by now. Both Lily and Alice had struggled to continue their research, but had failed miserably, and had joined Hermione in the window, in a united silence. 

She'd burnt Enid's letters as directed, before _scourgifying _the ashes – if someone ever recovered them it would be a miracle. She'd read them through enough times to memorise the contents anyway. They hadn't been particularly indicative of anything much - it seemed she was back to the drawing board.

She twisted her hair round her finger absent-mindedly as the library lights flickered to life. She couldn't get rid of the idea swirling round at the back of her mind, that nagged her now, something she knew would help her, might even solve their troubles. Why couldn't she remember it? It was frustrating, to have the answer nearly within her grasp, but just out of reach. It was in a book – she was sure of that, but it wasn't any book in the library – Merlin knew the four of them had devoured enough books over the past month – so it had to be one she'd read in her old time, published after 1976.

Unfortunately, that gave it plenty of scope, given the number of books she'd read in her third year. The light outside was fading steadily, barely a crack of light spilling over the horizon. It would be any moment now, any moment now. Poor Dorcas – this was all her fault – she bit her lip, silently squirming. Dorcas was never meant to have been a werewolf – she _had _to find this answer, for Dorcas' and Remus' sake, as much as for that of her conscience.

* * *

"Just relax." Remus whispered, giving her an awkward one armed hug. "Don't clench your fists – you'll tear your hands to shreds if you do that." 

Dorcas sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to relax her tense muscles and unclench her fists. It took effort – they'd been clenched for practically the entire afternoon, but she managed it, flexing her hands – she couldn't help the thought crossing her mind that soon they'd be replaced by claws. She nodded, not glancing at Remus, her throat dry and her usual list of quips exhausted – there wasn't anything she could say, was there?

"Sun'll be down -" Peter's sentence petered off at McGonagall's sharp glance. Dorcas batted away a grimace – as if she needed another reminder. She wasn't as bothered by McGonagall's presence as the others might have been, but still, it was embarrassing to appear before your head of house like this.

"How soon?" she ground out, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Soon." Was the monosyllabic reply she received from Sirius by the window.

"Meadowes?" Potter's voice rang throughout the Shack, footsteps quickly approaching. Dorcas forced herself to meet his eyes – she was no weakling. "Dorcas?" he repeated, sounding softer.

"Meadowes'll do just fine." She snapped tiredly – she didn't want his pity, not now, not ever.

"Dorcas." Potter persisted, wisely staying out of range of her fist – not that Dorcas would be able to punch him in this state. "I-" he faltered, glancing round at the Shack's other occupants. "We'll be here for you." He offered awkwardly.

Dorcas was half-way to giving him a glare, when she hesitated closing her eyes for control, "Thanks Potter."

Beside her, Remus stiffened – Dorcas was unable to prevent herself glancing at him. He swallowed, giving her a gentle smile. "You'll be fine."

Sharp stabbing pains shot through her eyes, making them water, Dorcas ground her eyes with her fists, forgetting Remus' advice. The eerie glow didn't disappear – a trick of the light?

She could only wish. She could hear everything, every sound in the universe, the pain blinding as she drowned in the sound of it all, the heavy breathing, padding footsteps, soft stroking of a wand, all blurring into a head splitting roar, the pain burning her, someone screamed, bloodcurdling in it's pitch – she pawed at her ears, in an effort to shut it out – why wouldn't it end? Her last coherent thought was the realisation that the screaming she could hear was her own.

* * *

Peter watched, horrified as Dorcas writhed on the floor, blood curdling screams racking the entire room, penetrating his very being – he'd never seen someone transform before. Remus was more dignified, only the odd whimper escaping him, as Dorcas mewled, claws ripping through delicate flesh, hair pressing its way through her skin. 

A horrendous series of cracks filled the shack, as bones reshaped themselves, curving stretching – breaking and reforming in a new way – Peter realised, repulsed and appalled.

"Transform now." McGonagall's cool voice cut across the Shack, but the words made as much sense as Gnomish to him, as he stared, transfixed. Gobbets of blood spattered over the floor, as sharp teeth protruded from their lips, stubs of tails growing rapidly, pushing outwards in rapid growth, yet Peter still stared, unable to manage even a single coherent thought.

A low growl swelled, before bursting free, filling the Shack, as two werewolves emerged. The larger wolf was on its feet almost instanteously, the younger one struggling to follow. A string of drool dangled from the larger's mouth and Peter was paralysed with terror. What should he do? He turned, about to run, as something slammed into him.

* * *

_Why isn't the little idiot transforming? _Sirius swore mentally, keeping half an eye on the wolves, whilst advancing towards Peter._Transform! Transform you bloody idiot!_

* * *

_What's Sirius doing? Fuck – watch what you're doing Potter! _James whirled, raising his hooves, flailing to avoid a pair of snapping jaws _D'you __**want**__ to get bitten?_

* * *

_I must be absolutely bloody mad – Peter, if we get out of this alive –_

"TRANSFORM PETER!" Sirius roared at Peter, forcing the transformation whilst leaping to his feet, and hauling the quivering boy after him. McGonagall and James were doing an admirable job of distracting the wolves, but that wouldn't last long. "Transform, Wormy!" Sirius shoved Peter behind him cursing his cowardly friend. "Peter, if you don't transform now, Merlin help me I'll – _fuck_!"

* * *

_I can't cover them for much longer, _James thought, dodging a swipe and neatly striking a wolf with a mental wince. _What the hell are they doing? Shit, Potter, stop the bloody wolf – stop it! Stop it NOW!_

* * *

A glancing blow from the stag stunned the advancing wolf momentarily, giving Sirius enough time to dodge to one side, shaking Peter furiously. "Transform! Transform Peter – do you want to die?" 

"No." The reply was a trembling whisper but Sirius heard it, _C'mon James – just a little longer – _

"Well, bloody well transform then!"

Peter flinched as Sirius snarled in his face, spit flying towards him, but his eyes focussed on something behind Sirius, and his trembling ceased.

_It worked – thank Merlin – what the – _

* * *

_Saturday November 29__th__ 1976_

Almost two weeks had passed since that first full moon, and Hermione had all but given up on receiving any answers – from Dorcas at least.

She resisted the urge to bang her head against the table in frustration or to hurl book after book against the wall, in open contempt at the lack of answers both in the library and from everyone else – something impulsive that she'd kick herself for doing afterwards. That would be tantamount to sacrilege – although whether to her or to the vulture like librarian, Madam Pince, she wasn't sure. Probably both, she mused, frustrated.

But, Hermione reasoned, she felt like doing something impulsive, something unplanned. She was thoroughly sick and tired of thinking carefully before she spoke, guarding her words and mulling over every answer she gave – she just wanted to talk to someone unguardedly, without having to mentally slap her hand over her mouth every few minutes! But even more so, she was sick of the lack of answers, from everyone around her – from Enid, from the books, from her own mind, but especially, from Dorcas.

Why wouldn't she tell them what had happened? Was it _really _that bad? _Goddamn it!_ She needed answers – she didn't want to be kept in the dark. She understood how Harry might have felt last summer. Being kept in the dark was completelyinfuriating – and didn't they _deserve _answers, after all they'd all been through together?

Hermione hastily began to stack books back onto shelves with a possessed urgency. None of the books started shrieking at her or attacking her, so she presumed she'd got them back in the correct place. If Dorcas wouldn't tell her, then one of the others would.

A glance at her watch informed her that it was nearly dinner – if she wanted any food, this would have to be short and sweet, but that was unlikely.

"Have you seen Remus Lupin?" she snagged a passing second year on his way down to dinner – all of the Marauders were certainly adept at avoiding discovery when they wanted to; a hint would certainly be helpful.

The second year looked surprised, "You mean the prefect in sixth year?" his reply was surly – nobody liked being delayed for dinner.

"Yes, that's who I mean," Hermione replied thankful that the second year hadn't given her any cheek and actually knew who he was.

"He was on the sixth floor, last I saw him." The second year took a step away from Hermione, keen to get away.

"Thanks." Hermione told him hurriedly, as the second year began to jog off. "There's a shortcut, you know." She called after him, half-expecting him to carry on regardless – not wanting to admit to herself that she was procrastinating, prolonging the inevitable. She knew Remus would take about as well to her interrogating him as Norbert had to 'teddy'. She was surprised to the second year reappear, reluctantly curious.

"Where is it then?" he asked. Hermione frowned – he was a demanding, disrespectful little beggar – she opened her mouth to inform him that one didn't talk to a prefect like that, reaching out to touch her badge, when her fingers touched cloth – she wasn't a prefect any longer. She flinched before replying,

"Behind the tapestry of Andros the Invincible – it takes you down to the second floor."

"Cheers." He muttered, dashing off, as Hermione muttered about how she'd had respect for elders when _she_ was a second year.

"Ungrateful little sod," half the Marauders appeared before her eyes, shocking her out of her skin – Sirius gave her a cheeky grin before continuing. "Just like us – carrying on time-honoured traditions."

Hermione was caught in consternation – why were James and Sirius bosom buddies once again? Sirius hadn't been this happy since, well, since the night Dorcas was bitten. "It's role models like you lot that inspire the lack of respect!" she told him, smiling slightly – she'd felt very guilty over Sirius' alienation, after all, it was never meant to have happened.

"We're just fulfilling our role in the school," James told her with a laugh at her indignation over the lack of respect. "You need the cheeky but loveable pranksters!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the twins' role models. "You'll inspire generations of mischief makers to come, I'm sure. Now," she moved on briskly, sure that these two could identify Remus' location better than the second year ever could. "Can you tell me where Remus is?"

Sirius and James cast uneasy glances at each other, which Hermione didn't miss. "What?" she demanded, hands on hips – what weren't they saying?

James bit his lip, exchanging another glance with Sirius, before looking back at Hermione who glared at them. "He's in the astronomy tower," James told her at length. "Now's really not a good time though Granger." He added – gently but there was an edge to his voice.

"Granger," Sirius promised as she turned to leave, a low warning note straining through his speech. "Don't push him – or you'll have us to answer to."

Hermione almost laughed aloud at that – at the irony of Sirius making that statement. She wanted to laugh aloud, to point out the blinding irony of such a sentence – but she didn't get a change – the Marauders took off down the corridor, not caring for whatever parting shot she cared to hurl. Just _what_ had taken place, for Sirius to earn James's forgiveness?

Still, she hurried upstairs, realising with some annoyance that the second year had either lied to her or at least was wrong – she wondered if he'd get his foot caught in the trick stair, like Neville always did. She sighed, knowing that she'd probably have to check later and see whether he was there – just to assuage the guilt she'd feel otherwise, though she knew, logically, that the odds of him actually a) getting stuck in the first place – were slim, and b) someone rescuing him before she returned was also high.

Hermione followed the corridor that curved back onto the main thoroughfare that led from the main staircase to the Astronomy tower – it was easily the fastest route, thinking about the tack she might use on Remus. He wouldn't take well to subterfuge or slyly directed conversation – not that Hermione was particularly adept at that sort of thing anyway.

She sighed, as she reached the door at the base of the stairwell, yanking the iron handle to open the door. Remus wasn't going to take this well no matter _what _method she employed. Perhaps she'd have been better off asking James or Sirius – but she didn't really know them, no matter how well she felt she might at times, through Harry and the future.

The door at the landing was spelled shut, but it yielded to Hermione's '_Alohamora', _but her imaginings of a quiet entrance were ruined. The door squeaked slightly as she opened it, and she flinched, wishing that it hadn't – was the world set against her approaching quietly?

A lone figure stood, leaning against the parapet – the wind was wild up here, teasing her hair out of its bun and tossing it into a mass of knots – how long had he been out here? It was freezing, and the wind battering. Hermione clutched her cloak tightly to her, as she battled against the wind.

"Remus?" she called, having finally surrendered to the knowledge that her approach was going to be anything but stealthy – that was probably just as well, or Remus might have accidentally hexed her over the balcony. Although, Hermione thought wryly, he might just do that anyway.

"Remus!" She shouted at him, having finally reached the parapet, the telescopes that had been abandoned, whirring in place. "Remus Lupin!"

It still felt odd not to refer to him as 'Professor' Lupin – she'd had to swallow down a 'Professor' more than once. She clutched at his arm, determined to arouse him from his stupor, when he finally replied. "Hermione?"

He looked stunned – a mixture of annoyance and surprise crossing his face, but there was also a little hurt lingering in his voice. "Hermione." He repeated, "What do you want?" he raised his voice, to shout over the wind.

"I need to talk to you." Hermione told him, shouting over the wind – she was forced to repeat her request several times before he heard her. He frowned for a second, considering. Hermione narrowed her eyes, signalling to him that if he didn't come with her, she'd drag his unwilling body down every step of the tower and into the nearest empty room.

"About what?" he folded his arms, looking down at her.

"Come with me and I'll talk to you about it." She wasn't about to stand out in this tempest all night and wear out her voice trying to pry answers from him.

He eyed her once again, looking thoughtful. "Fine," he agreed, resigned to his fate.

Fortunately, they didn't have to battle the winds to get back inside - the wind almost flung them inside, through the door. Once they reached the stairwell, Remus stopped where he was, shaking Hermione's hand off his arm – _Odd_, Hermione thought – she hadn't noticed it had been there.

"You can tell me here." He planted his feet on the stairs, one hand wrapped around the railing stubbornly. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes, with a mental thought of _boys_.

"Aren't you coming down to dinner?" she asked, with a patient, if slightly patronizing, grin.

"No." Remus's replies were quickly becoming monosyllables.

"Fine," Hermione huffed, sensing that he wasn't going to move – and besides _she_ on the other hand, happened to be hungry and didn't want to waste time dragging Remus hither and thither. "Will you tell me what happened?"

There was no doubt between either of them as to precisely what Hermione was referring to. "I can't."

"Can't," Hermione replied through her teeth, using the customary phrase. "Or won't?"

Remus looked agonized. "I don't want to talk about it!" He snapped, "And it's not for me to tell, anyway."

"So whose is it to tell?" Hermione retorted. "James's? Sirius's? Peter's?"

"Dorcas's." Remus stated flatly. "It's more to do with her than me."

"No it's not." Hermione replied, refraining from adding that Dorcas wouldn't tell her. "It's just as much to do with you."

"Fine," Remus snapped. "Peter forgot to transform."

Hermione drew a deep breath, and a tense silence filled the room as she waited for him to continue. Peter had forgotten to transform? But why? She almost felt contempt for him, before she realised how terrifying an experience being with _one _werewolf had been, let alone. It was then she remembered who she was thinking of – this was _Peter Pettigrew_, but her contempt was tempered by pity.

"Sirius – he saved Peter's life. There's no doubt about that." Remus continued sullenly.

"What – what did he do?" Hermione prompted him nervously.

Remus glared at her, but she didn't back down. "He transformed back – distracted us, until Peter had transformed and almost got bloody bitten in the process!"

Hermione felt her jaw drop, a horrified expression creeping over her face. No wonder Dorcas wouldn't speak of it. Who would?

"They're right." She heard Remus mutter angrily. "I'm a bloody monster. A bloody animal!"

The violence of his anger shocked Hermione out of her stupor, and she forced herself to wipe her horror from her face. "You are _not _a monster." She whispered to him forcefully. "Don't you _ever_ dare describe yourself as a monster Remus Lupin. You are the nicest, most gentle man I've ever met – the monster's someone like Vo-" she hesitated before forcing the words out. "Voldemort! Does he care about the people he's ever hurt? Do his followers? They choose to do so! Consciously, Remus – they murder, and they feel no remorse for what they've done, no pity! And you do, it's obvious you do, look at how much pain it's causing you. You're anything but a monster!" Hermione closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, steeling herself for what she was about to say. "If anyone's the monster here it's me. It's my fault Dorcas is a werewolf Remus, my fault. Not yours. Not Sirius's. It's mine."

Beside her Remus stiffened. "Did you bite her Hermione? Did you turn her into a werewolf?"

Hermione reached out unsteadily, with just two fingers to touch his shoulder. "Remus I-" How could she begin to explain all that had happened? How he shouldn't blame himself? She _needed _to tell him, felt compelled, the decision weighing on her mind, and on her heart, but…he would hate her for it.

She swallowed heavily – Remus, she owed the truth to, at least. "Remus I haven't been entirely...honest, with you."

In the darkness she couldn't see his face, couldn't gauge his reaction, but she felt a hand clasp hers tentatively. She hurried on swiftly. "I've known from the beginning about what you are."

Remus gasped sharply, "What? How- did someone -"

"No," Hermione cut him off, holding his hand more tightly. "Let me finish, Remus, please. I've known about the Marauders, about the Map, about you being animagi, before any of you met me. I know how you were bitten and I know who you were bitten by. I know you thought you would never come to Hogwarts. I-" she hesitated once again, knowing Dumbledore would be most displeased about everything. "I've attended Hogwarts for six years now," she told him. Was he sharp enough to figure that out?

"That's not possible." He told her sharply – but he didn't drop her hand. Surely that was a good sign?

Hermione sat on the stairwell next to him. "It's perfectly possible – I've attended Hogwarts since I was eleven years old."

"But we would have met you, seen you!" Remus objected, sensing an ominous turn to the conversation.

"You would have," Hermione's voice dropped to a slow, faltering whisper, "If I'd been attending it at the same time as you. I'm from the future Remus."

He dropped her hand like it was a hot coal. "I don't believe you!" He told her furiously. There was a few seconds pause, and then, "How far from the future?" Remus was sharp minded enough to put two and two together.

"1996," she whispered, the story falling out of her now, the floodgates loosened. "I can never go back. I searched everyday for answers – I even resorted to pinching Enid's notes." She added with a wry, deprecating laugh. "Even at the beginning of the year – but, I know now, there's nothing. I'm never going back. It definitely wouldn't be the same place I left anyway. I shouldn't miss it as much as I do!"

Remus sat silently beside her for a moment, as Hermione struggled to keep her composure. "Do you know any of us, in the future," he asked quietly, having noted the 'definitely'.

"I know you," she said, her voice trembling slightly, but she smiled as she said it. "And I know Sirius. I've met Peter." She added, forcing herself to avoid spitting his name as she said it.

"What about James?" Remus asked, "What about Lily, Dorcas and Alice? Do you know them?"

"I know," Hermione began cautiously, "I know James's son. He's my best friend – Harry. I miss him! And it's my fault," she hurried on, "That Dorcas is a werewolf – don't you see? She was never meant to become a werewolf! If I hadn't been here, James wouldn't have been in detention – he would have rescued Snape. If I hadn't gone outside, we never would have seen Snape – we wouldn't have followed him!"

"And you wouldn't have seen him go down," Remus continued, "You wouldn't have seen him ripped to shreds. That's what would have happened Hermione. And from what you're telling me, Sirius still would have sent him down there! At least you've made him redeem himself!"

"And what about Dorcas?" Hermione interrupted. "She's a werewolf now, all because of me!"

"And it's too late to do anything about it now," Remus soothed. "What's done is done. We've just got to cope with it as best we can. You can't exactly reverse it."

"There are things you can do though," Hermione told him, "In the future. I'm just bringing them about more quickly." A sudden gleam of triumph shot through her eyes – remembrance.

"Well, until they get here then." Remus stood with an unexpected smile - which caused Hermione to almost topple over, upon seeing it - Remus caught her by the crook of her elbow, still smiling. "Thanks, for telling me, I mean. And for not holding a grudge about me either."

"Remus," Hermione grabbed his hand again, "I have never thought you were a monster. Ever. I know you aren't. Just – you can't tell anyone. Please. I'll tell people myself." Alright, well she had thought he was a monster for a while in third year – it was a _small _white lie.

"I promise," Remus said solemnly. "Now," he began with a grin, "About the future-"

Hermione swatted him with a hand and a relieved grin – finally, she had someone to confide in, who knew! "I'm not a soothsayer!"

* * *

Although Hermione knew a small proportion of what the Order got up to – certainly more than she'd know when the Order was located at Grimmauld Place – there were certainly aspects that Hermione knew nothing of. 

Night-time stakeouts when their spies managed to scavenge some information was just one of them. Enid shuddered, sticking close to the hedge as she and her partner – Benjy – cut through the car park from Angel Street. A couple of local yobs congregated toward the centre of the car park, ranging in age from thirteen year olds hanging off the coat tails of their elders, pulling up their hoods in an effort to look older and gangly seventeen year olds, with the proud cuts from shaving. Although she was confident she and Benjy could take the youths out with spectacular ease, Enid didn't want to have to.

"Nearly there, love." Benjy linked his fingers through hers, in keeping with their charade of a couple in their mid-thirties – for that was who they were polyjuiced to look like, Alec and Lydia Nelson. She even had the 'id' to prove it – forged id, granted, as no Alec and Lydia Nelson really existed, but she had id nonetheless. The gesture, although only intended to keep in character, comforted Enid. Her skin prickled, not entirely from the cold – _fear_. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, sweat trickled down her back – she was no fighter, no bold Gryffindor.

The CIS building was almost impossible to miss, the mosaic panels still impressively glinting in the street light – tonight's target. Enid hurried past the yobs – if she had to pick a fight tonight, it would be with the Death Eaters, though she wished it were not. Miller Street, Enid read from a heavily graphitised sign, activating her emergency portkey – it was convenient to have contacts in the Department of Magical Transportation.

"Alec?" she murmured – she could never use the endearments as easily as Benjy, simply because they didn't appeal to her, and the only time she'd ever tried, it had sounded so fake that she'd been expressly forbidden from trying it again. "Have you got your phone on?" or rather: have you activated your portkey.

Benjy raised an eyebrow, momentarily confused, before recovering his equilibrium smoothly, masking his previous disorientation. "Already done it dear."

"Good," Enid replied, casting a nervous glance toward the building. "Granddad needs to be able to contact us." Dumbledore had been most amused at the codename they'd chosen for him, but it worked – and it was plausible, the two most important things.

"Any sign-" Enid whispered, as they walked up the street - few cars were passing at this time of night, a decrepit old banger hurtled up the road, loud music with heavy bass thumping.

"None ye-" A red light struck Benjy out cold.

"Oh my God" Enid screamed, absolutely terrified, before coming to her senses as a green light barely missed her. She dropped to her knees grabbing Benjy's wrist - there was a pulse. "Oh thank God!" she slapped his wrist watch activating his emergency portkey, which glowed bright blue, before he disappeared to the Headquarters.

There were at least twenty of them, she noted, but there would be more round the back of the building – and she'd just lost her partner. She undid the glamour on her wand – there wouldn't be any need for it now. There were far too many Death Eaters just to blow up one building – surely. This wasn't an ambush, was it?

"_Stupefy!"_ She screamed at the group, knowing they'd surely seen her, as a few broke off. "_Petrificus Totalus!"_

She was backing up now, behind the hedge, in the car park – the youths had scattered long ago. How had the Death Eaters known that they'd be here? "_Impedimenta!"_

She couldn't let the fear overwhelm her, had to stay strong, if she wanted to survive. _"Stupefy!"_ Her shot grazed a Death Eater, but he barely flinched, conjuring a quick shield charm. She was in trouble. "_Petrificus Totalus." _

A volley of green lights decimated the hedge before her, one missing her by a half an inch. Enid let out a suppressed scream, rolling behind a car. She was running out of options, very quickly. Where were the others? Couldn't they help her? She glanced up at the group again. Probably not.

They were advancing, she'd have to move soon. She had one last option, before she activated her Portkey. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A faint shimmer, wisp like smog appeared before, blowing away on the wind. Her happy memory wasn't strong enough, and they were coming so very quickly, she had to be brave, couldn't let the others down. "_Expecto Patronum!" _

Her dove shimmered from her wand, comforting and Enid reached out with one hand to touch it, before remembering the consequences of doing so - and she didn't have time to conjure another one. "Tell them to come quickly," she told it urgently, "Tell them I'm cornered in the car park by Angel Street. And be quick!"

It was then that everything imploded – as the CIS building went up in flames, Enid fell into darkness.

* * *

_Armenia 1976_

"Avedis?" An old woman peered outwards of her window, looking for her grandson. Doubtless he wouldn't come. "Avedis?"

"I'm here."

"Tell Levon that they will come – those who will have need of his skills. Tell him not to be so damn stubborn this time!"

"His skills, grandmother?"

"Yes, his skills," she snapped. "He's not entirely crazy yet. There's work still for him to do. I'd tell him myself, but," she eyed Avedis, who'd paled from the first mention of the crazy man Levon. "Make sure he gets the message Avedis! And do it now boy!"

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully, I've pricked your curiosity!! Thanks for reading this far! **

**LotL101: I included everything (I think!), and I do think that, that was definately needed!! Sorry for the slow update!! Thank you!!  
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**suisei no mitsukai: As always, your review was full of helpful hints, and you let me know what's important to the story line and what's not - so thank you, as it's always helpful to know whether aspects of the story that I've worried over add or detract to the story, so thanks!!**

**Miss. Silver Star: I agree, it is a little surprising, but I thought that as Remus is the teenager and not the man he will be, he would be a little less forgiving - particuarly when he's in the right - you definately made me have thoughts about how I've portrayed Remus!**

**Alysandra Martin: I'm glad you like it! ( and a smiley face too!! Yay!) )**

**WuHaoNi: Thanks for commenting again - the future will definately have a bigger part to play as the story moves on, so you have those to look forward to!!**

**Yochanan Lie: I do agree that the Quidditch wasn't really necessary for the plot, but I really wanted to include it from a story point of view, it shows how little this has effected the rest of the school (and how well it's all been covered up!) Again, their'll probably be another (more significant) future chapter soon! Thanks for the comments!**

**Geneviève: The romance is slow, but I just felt that Hermione wouldn't jump into a relationship straight away (as you say!) so I've kept it slow so far! I'm glad you like the future chapters - I guess it would be pretty terrifying, not knowing whether you'll be next! Thank you!!**

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